


Running with a Ghost

by saemay



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:26:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 184,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saemay/pseuds/saemay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Walking with a Ghost. Involving the non-severed ties of Hal's past coming to bite him, Rook and the MiG and the shifting power balance of the supernatural world post Old Ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Blood._

_Thick, wet, puddled tendrils of it._

_The floor, the bed and wall behind all seeping with it. A morbid spatter in an arc across white linens, its contrast noted._

_In a place that_ felt _familiar but was not sat an explosion of crimson in an intoxicating, primal perfume. The scent was in strong competition for the heavy summer night but could not be mistaken. Flickering firelight drowned out the glow of the moon, its heat growing stronger, illuminating peaks of sharp white amongst the dark wreckage. Small shards like scattered pottery strewn across the floor. Exposed ribs in a curved arc were the only things recognizable as once human._

_Hands with black sickles of fingernail, carnage buried underneath crusting red smears. A slick satisfaction was spreading. A long-held hunger, abated._

_Awareness broke away from satisfaction, a bubble of doubt rising into a mute scream of anguish, of nightmare. Like a cresting wave, a tsunami, the floodgates of horror breached and spilled into voice. An immortal scream that knew no end..._

-

Gasping, Alex Millar came to the surface, fighting to escape the sound still echoing out of her nightmare. With a jolt she felt Hal’s close-pressed muscles tense, his lips brush her shoulder. A sleepy query of her name. She reached for his hand draped over her waist, clasped his fingers and whispered automatic platitudes. _It was okay. Go back to sleep..._

Not fully awakened, he drifted back into sleep easily. Still ragged with shock, her non-existent heart in her throat, Alex could not.

She would have gotten up had she not been frozen with panic. A deer caught in deadly headlights. There was no mistaking the nightmare.

In an attempt to calm herself, she remained nestled close against his body and took in the quiet of the darkened room around them.

It had happened again.


	2. Previously, A King Overlooking the Sea

Morning light streamed down on the sleepy coastal town of Barry. Not too many people were out and about. The weekend had barely begun. The sea air held the slightly crisp quality heralding the coming fall, but the clear morning sunshine was warming.

Richard Turner snoozed in his M-class, the sun heating the black metal, green-housing the tinted glass to sink pleasantly into his old bones. After his agitated drive of the evening prior the feeling was rather nice. His phone had already begun pinging message alerts, but he had muted it. All of it could wait. Today may very well be marking the end of an era if he played his cards right. His business and the flavor of his investments could be drastically different by this afternoon. Best to keep offline until he was certain.

It could be a mistake. Henry Yorke, an employee of a seaside hotel? The name was common enough. Richard almost hoped it was a mistake. Try as he might, he could not picture his colleague here. Owning the building, yes. Laundering money through its books? Yes. But as acting "Manager of Housekeeping?" Doubtful. If he hadn't already driven across the country Richard would have been inclined to dismiss the lead altogether. Old Ones did not go about employing themselves as human, even one as eccentric as his partner. Why would he? The heavy portfolio weighing down the seat next to him was proof of enough that Henry Yorke did not need to work anywhere. All he had to do was ask.

And ask he did... "I want out, Richard."

The thought weighed heavily on Richard's mind. Perhaps ol' Henry had finally truly snapped. He had been clean, presumably for decades now. They all knew how that could warp the mind, weakening and eroding a vampire until there was nothing left but madness.

Richard glanced at his phone for the hour. The thing was peppered with notifications for missed calls, voicemail, text and email messages. And it wasn't even eight o'clock! The advancements of modernity were both a blessing and a curse; to be so free to roam and yet so tied. Richard sighed. Henry wasn't the only one who wanted out. Richard's long overdue vacation had been postponed with the downfall of the Old Ones. Investments had to be re-negotiated. Portfolios redistributed. Not to mention the crumbling stocks that would have risen with the anticipated global chaos they were now sorely lacking.

Yes, his messages could wait. At least until after breakfast.

Richard opened his door and stepped onto the street, filling his lungs with the tangy salt air. Straightening his suit and his resolve, he approached the Barry Grand.

Distant chatter and the clinking of china could be heard down the corridor along with the telltale odor of breakfast. The hotel lobby however was quiet. It was early for check outs.

'Megan' read the girl's fake brass badge. She smiled sweetly for him and he removed his hat with old-fashioned flair.

"Tell me, Megan. Is Mr. Yorke in today?"

The girl looked at him blankly for a moment with mud-brown eyes before recognition skipped across their surface, "D'ya mean Hal?"

Her Welsh accent struck him like a soggy blanket. "Yes. Hal." Richard knew Henry well enough to note the significance of his public name, but a pressing irritation distracted him from the thought. The drive had taken it's toll. The girl's fresh scent was tantalizing against the competing fry-up and coffee.

"Nay sir. Hal is out today. Friend's funeral, the poor dear," she caught herself and didn't elaborate further. Looking at him quizzically, she added, "If you're in need of housekeeping I can refer you to Mr. Edwards."

Since when did Henry bother himself with funerals? "No need to trouble yourself. I'm an old colleague of Hal's." Richard reached into his breast pocket, extracted a polished platinum case and withdrew an elegant business card. "I was hoping I could catch him while I was in Barry. Maybe next time."

"Terrible luck," the girl glanced at the card Richard had slid across the polished counter, "Mr. Turner. Will you be staying with us? Hal is due back tomorrow."

"He mustn't have had to travel far then?"

The girl shrugged. "He did'na say."

Probably a cover for something else. Richard relaxed. He could manage his business here for the day just as well as his previously arranged stay in Cardiff. "Do you have a suite currently available?"

"Our bridal suite is taken by a hen-do tonight. But we have a King overlooking the sea?"

"Why yes. That would be most convenient."

After a surprisingly refreshing shower and a shave, Richard closed the door on room service. Welsh cakes and fresh-squeezed orange juice would go nicely with the o-positive in his briefcase. After breakfast and a quick perusal of business, he would enjoy a nap. And perhaps a stroll. It was rare he allowed himself a day of respite.

Settling in at the desk with the sounds of squabbling seagulls beyond the window, Richard uncorked his flask and indulged in a hearty draught before anything else. Momentarily sated, he tucked his napkin into his collar and began the deliberate work of slicing through layers of cake and buttery cinnamon. Only once it was all ordered into bite-sized pieces did Richard return his attention to his phone.

There had been another missed call while he had showered. His secretary. Again. Ensuring the hotel notepad was was at hand, Richard chose to listen to his voicemails first. Only those closest to him had his direct number. The amount of messages, though not overtly unusual, gave him pause. It was still fairly early on a Saturday. Celine had known he would be away today...

The first message was a client requesting information on a new acquisition. Many of his clients kept less than usual hours, often forgetting the standard decorum of things like weekends and "early". Richard forwarded the message to the office for Celine to handle and made a note of it.

The second message however gave him pause. Celine, who actually did understand the concept of a weekend, had sounded almost hesitant in her short message. "Richard, call me when you receive this."

By the time he got to her second message, Richard's sunny disposition had faded.


	3. Comforts of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Why hello there! Thanks for coming back to join me on this thoroughly EPIC ride.  
> I'm hoping that you have read the pre-cursor to this story, Walking with a Ghost. Recommended if not. But if you insist on forging ahead, here be a slight need-to-know:
> 
> \- WwaG was written BEFORE series 5, so therefore takes little-to-no account of the events in S5. That makes the world of WwaG and now RwaG an alternate universe of sorts. Do with that what you will.
> 
> \- Alex & Hal are united by her blood, making Alex a revered and rare type of ghost, stronger than most and shielded by Hal from the doors of death and the Men with Sticks and Rope.
> 
> \- Elements of Alex's character were fabricated by me based on what little we knew about her at the end of S4. The primary differing point is that I surmised her mother left their family by dying, which has actually caused a stronger but gentler character shift in the way she became the matriarch of her family. She has history dealing with addiction, so has been invaluable in helping Hal through his.
> 
> \- Hal has a history with Richard Turner, a vampire Mitchell mentions briefly as having been the first to live a double life. Previously a slave trader who ran for Parliament, Turner is a little younger than Hal, but not an Old One. They own an investment company, Turner & Yorke based out of London that specializes in long-term property holds.
> 
> \- Lastly, I don't own these characters - they own me. Sincerest of thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.

The countryside beyond the glass of Leo's old Mercedes was swathed in a darkness just as black as the pre-dawn journey had been. Moors and hills dotted with the occasional flock that flashed white and idle, slowly ebbed to suburban sprawl strip mall lights. Unlike his earlier journey, the passenger seat was empty. The temptation of the cities was stronger without her here.

Hal Yorke stayed the wheel. He kept to the long stretch of the M6. The peace and stability of home called him like a siren. The ribbon of road yawning behind him was a pull of another sort.

She had asked him to come, but she hadn't anticipated the crowd her life would have drawn.

Five more miles. Merely five more miles until the turn off the roadway. Drive through. Do not stop. You will not stop. One, inhale... Two, exhale... Three...

Park the car. Wheels to the curb, just so...

Hal stepped onto the sidewalk and latched the car door gently. All of the houses along the street were dark, with the exception of one. Hal checked his watch. Not even God was up at this hour...

Up the steps, silent. Unlock the door, silent. Once through the foyer Hal closed the door quietly. Leaning against the door frame to take in his home, he allowed a smile to cross his face. Not even God...

Tom McNair, werewolf wonder and vampire slayer extraordinaire, was asleep. The textbook he had been reading sat open on the table in front of him. His head was pillowed on his arm, the angry red scars visible on his scalp.

Hal purposefully jingled his keys. Tom started upright, reflexes ahead of his consciousness. Blinking awake, he relaxed at the sight of his housemate.

"Oi Hal," Tom rubbed the crease in his cheek and glanced around the room. "Where's Alex?"

Hal placed his keys in the dish on the bar and took off his jacket. "She stayed. She needed more time."

"Oh..." Tom's sleepy brain was still catching up to him. "You shoulda let me come wit ya. I coulda driven home."

"No. It was fine. You need not use your leave, now that you are in school. Besides. I was not much use," Hal added as he pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, weary. "All of us there would have been even more awkward."

Tom's sigh turned to a yawn, "You a'ight though mate? Got home okay?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Well, yeah. Just..." Tom stopped with an uncomfortable look, feeling he'd spoken hastily,his sleepiness having gotten past his better judgement. With one raised eyebrow Hal managed to goad him on. "Were there lots o'folk there?"

"Yes. She was loved," Hal admitted.

"Cor she were. She's Alex. Were you okay though? Didn't have any hankerings?"

Hal pushed an amused snort of breath, "Every second. But it was fine. I kept a certain distance. We were advised not to associate ourselves in any case. She followed them to a pub in town. I went for a walk."

"A walk? And you didn't come across anyone?"

"I came across several someones. You do realize Glasgow is, in fact, a city? But no one died, if that is what you wish to know. It was quiet. Nice, actually." Changing the subject with a hint of amusement Hal asked, "Were you waiting up for me?"

"Well... yeah. Sorta."

"Thanks, I think," Hal smiled. "Look - it's late. You should go to bed. Somewhere other than on your coursework?"

"You gonna be alright?"

"Certainly. Why?"

"It's just - this is the first night you an' Alex been apart in a long while. You think you'll be okay without her? Cuz I can stay up with you. Allison's already -"

"I've managed without Alex for centuries," Hal interrupted Tom's offer. "Surely I can manage the remains of one night. Go to bed Tom. I'll see you in the morning."

"Right. Yeah." Tom closed his book. Hands in the pockets of his jumper, he shuffled sleepily towards the stairs. Hal was on his way to the kitchen for a cup of tea when Tom added, "Nearly forgot to mention - somebody came looking for you at the hotel today."

With what he hoped was a casual slowness, Hal turned around. He was surprised it had taken them this long, but didn't let it show. He asked with feigned indifference, even though he certainly knew, "Who?"

"Don't know. Megan just mentioned it 'tis all. Probably vampire yeah?"

"Probably. Get some rest, Tom."

Definitely no point in attempting sleep now. Hal had anticipated this, but had been thankful for the respite. The previous weeks had been a blur even without influence from London. Tom's recent stride into home ownership coached by Hal, and Allison's strategic coup over Tom's education were accessories to Hal's surprisingly disconcerting interview with Mr. Rook and the subsequent dealings over Alex's body.

Alex.

The merest thought of the ghost sent a tug through the center of him. He could feel the miles between them like a physical ache. Ever since she had saved him through the anchor of her blood, he had been able to sense her. It was as if an invisible thread spanned between them, regardless of distance. He now craved to be as close to her as she to him. It was unnerving.

And yet, thus far, he hadn't minded. He still yearned for blood. That was never going to change. Alex's blood called to him with as much reality as the rest of her, but it seemed out-beckoned by the lure of their bond. He harbored no illusion that he still could slip; he was terrified of even accidentally hurting her. And yet, the violent urges of his nature were battling against the soft comfort of something else. After continually failing to restrain himself from physical contact with her, he had finally stopped trying, which, as with any addiction, only seemed to increase his need.

Hal anticipated their journey would be like this today. And also, he knew it had been unnecessary for him to accompany her. Superfluous. He had come simply because she had wished it. Supporting Alex through her own funeral was the least he could do. After all she had done for him, he would grant her any comfort she wished.

The kettle coming to a boil broke into his thoughts sooner than he had expected. Between the hours of driving and the overwhelming exposure to people, the day had been a continual gnaw dragging against his resolve. Maybe he was fatigued enough for sleep after all, even with his circling thoughts.

Still, he poured a steaming stream of water into a mug. Without a glance he retrieved a spoon from it's precisely given place to the right of the knives and started stirring. There had been a haunted feel to the afternoon. The people listening to the priest drone on about the salvation of the eternal soul seemed to sense the supernatural flanking the edges of their flock. Invisible to all but him, Alex had weaved past the people she held most dear in life. One by one, she had said goodbye. Unable to bear watching the faces of her father and brothers any longer, Alex had finally come to stand next to Hal without a word. None of the mourners had taken note of the lone man respectfully admiring the cathedral's architecture during the Requiem Mass. Specialis filia Romanae ecclesiae... The mosaic crest declaring the church of St. Andrews as a special daughter was a touching coincidence.

The church filled with the silence of prayers as the priest began the Eucharist. Hal tilted his head to Alex, indicating the doorway to the cloister garden. His presence here would soon be too overt for him to remain. Despite evidence that her death had been an 'accident', the Regulatory Office still had advised Alex to travel on her own, lest her family work out who Hal was. Mike Nave had originally been hired to investigate Alex's cafe worker mystery date in connection with her disappearance, after all.

Alex gave a last lingering look at the assembly of her family and friends, then followed Hal outside. The sky was shockingly blue, making the day more apt for a wedding than a funeral. Thankfully, no one else was presently in the garden. Alex had neglected to warn him of the mirrored modern memorial that sat at its center. He noted the irony of their opposites. His shadow pooled the ground under his feet while hers came and went dependent on her tangibility. Today, it was absent, the reality of her own mortality having finally hit her. Alone, her reflection sat clearly under the words on the polished memorial plinth before them.

L'aqua che io gli daró diventerá in lui  
una sargente d'acqua  
che zampilla per la vita eterna.

Eternal life. Hal didn't need the translation to note the irony. They moved away to stand next to the garden wall facing Clyde Street. After the service the crowd would be heading to a further afield pub, one of Alex's favorites, for her Eulogy and wake. "I'm sorry," she finally said, watching as people began to shuffle out of the church. "I need to stay. For a bit. I shouldna''ave dragged you here."

Hal understood. He had expected it. He bid her farewell with a gentle kiss to her forehead, "You can find me if you need." And then he watched her go. She had followed after her brothers without a backwards glance.

Unable to drive home until the cover of night, he wandered. Played tourist until he could bear it no longer. The marvel of a modern bookstore whittled an hour with some long-forgotten treasures, but he soon was restless, so he walked. Despite the faint but present limp in his gait. West, across town despite the continual pain from a leg that may never heal. Not without blood... his persistent inner voice reminded him. Visiting the Botanical Gardens was like visiting an old friend. The arching glass of Kibble Palace, far more elegantly designed than the Crystal Palace of London, still enthralled him as it did a century ago. He had made a rather satisfying kill at the inaugural ball... No. He would not think on that.

In the darkened and quiet kitchen, Hal stopped stirring his tea, only to discover he had completely forgotten the sachet.

No, sleep would not be finding him after this day.  
-  
292, 293, 294... Alex had not returned. Hal tried to revel in the solitude. Without her continual chatter and teasing, the room was quiet. 305, 306, 307... But he still found himself missing her. 319, 320, 321... His routines had been slipping more and more. Firstly his injury continued to be a disability, the burnt skin and muscle a tight and present pain no matter the amount of stretching or calisthenics. But secondly, because of her. She could make him lose count with one smouldering look of her wide almond eyes.

337, 338, 339... That was enough. He was exhausted. And hungry. Better to switch to sit-ups to tame the ache. 1, 2, 3... Mornings, which used to be so difficult for him, were quickly becoming his favorite time of the day. Alex was a morning person. She had gotten that way looking after her brothers, he was sure. 13, 14, 15... But the ways in which she would wake him. Anyone else would have suffered their death at such a thing. At another point in time, his bedmate wouldn't have lived to see the dawn...

19, 20, 21... Hal regretted many things, but not being able to ever awaken her was one of the foremost presently. Due to their very nature he would never be able to watch her sleep, never be able to awaken her in such a way. At the thought of how, just the other morning...

Hal lost count. Thirty... something. He wondered how long she would stay. He wondered if she would return at all. It had been such a long time since he had let go with someone like this. Until Leo took him underwing there were lovers, sure. But it had been centuries since he had allowed someone to love him. He kept himself distant, cold; a ruthless breaker of hearts. He was fearful he would break her heart anyways. Somehow. The sense of doom lingered over him like a cloud, made worse by knowing that she knew.

Forty two, forty three, forty... Fuck it.

It was a night for light reading.  
-  
Home.

From one, to the next.

Alex appeared in front of the cheery four-letter placard spanning the kitchen at Honolulu Heights. Annie had taught her that if she could picture it, then she could be there. The "HOME" sign was now as much of an anchor as Hal, which is why she wouldn't hear a word of it when he wanted to add it to the donation pile. Instead, it had remained hanging properly over the range in kitschy cheer. The rest of the bric-brac he could tidy and discard as he saw fit - it was technically his house now after all, even if the deed was being made up in Tom's name.

Alex leaned against the counter in the dark and listened. She could feel Hal's presence in the house and wanted to teleport directly to him, but thought better of it. It was late. He'd be knackered and hopefully, sleeping soundly without her there. Alex felt knackered herself and she didn't even need sleep. The range of pure untempered emotion she had wrung through in the last day... the steam was right outta her as her Dad would say. Even though she had left her father sleeping soundly in his favorite chair (and put away the empties and turned off the tele) the thought still hit her with a pang of loss.

That was her past now though. It was done. Her closure was closed. She was mourned and now her family had to learn to get on without her. Just as she had learned to get on without them...

The gradual approach would disturb Hal less, she theorized. All she wanted to do was climb into bed without him waking. Without question, without conversation. She just wanted to hold close the one good thing she had in this strange afterlife and slip into blessed nothing.

Alex climbed the stairs slowly, her family's faces still circling her mind. Upon reaching his landing she was surprised to see a gentle light illuminating the dark stairway. She nudged the door open without a sound and latched it behind herself. Despite the hour, near morning, Hal had been reading. Her quiet entrance hadn't fooled him. He had set his book down, seemingly waiting for her.

She didn't know what to say. Her mouth opened, then closed. With one meeting of their eyes, he stood and abruptly crossed the room to sweep her into a rare embrace. His grip was strong, solid, his familiar scent a comfort. Alex immediately couldn't fathom how she had managed to stay away.

His hands swept down past her jacket to weave between her fingers. The barest of contact and their embrace flared to fire. From comfort to want so terribly quickly. Alex kissed him fiercely. Could she say everything with this? Without saying anything?

With haste they were tumbling towards the bed, an easy thing considering it now took up the front half of the room. She had talked him out of the single.

She felt a surge of emotion when they hit his precisely neat blankets, just as he had left them at this hour yesterday. A distant part of her registered that Hal's reading light was flickering, but she couldn't get enough of touching him. His face, his chest, the smooth rigidity of his arms. He urged the jacket from her shoulders, letting it fall and sliding his hands down the bare skin of her arms. He inhaled deeply into her hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist, both of them sitting upright.

Hal must have caught something in her face, or else it was the flickering lamp that made him stop. Alex could feel more than hear her heart hammering between them. And she could hear more than feel her own broken sobs. She realized she was crying. All the emotion and heartbreak of the day came tumbling out. Hal just held her, a hand slid to support her back, his chin on her head while she sobbed her grief into the cradle of his shoulder.

She appreciated how he wouldn't console her, wouldn't whisper platitudes that it all would be okay, when it wasn't. He just let her sadness rage. At least the contents of his room remained in relative peace...

She sniffed into his collar, subsiding with a sigh. Slowly, she came aware that he not only was supporting her, but gently rocking. The motion was small and she wondered what he had been like with Eve. She leaned back to look at him and he stopped. His eyes were warm, understanding. She gave him a brave smile, trying to play off her tears. Hal leaned his forehead to rest against hers and they remained that way for several slowing beats of her heart.

"Did you ever want..." Alex started suddenly, then thought better of it and trailed off. Of all the ways she could change tactics, talking about that, out of all the emotions the day had dredged up, was probably not the best.

"Want what?" Hal replied softly, hands traveling to her waist to stroke the silk of her dress.

Alex met the openness of his eyes. With a nervous tug of her lip, she forged into it. "A family? I mean, more than this."

Hal immediately furrowed his brow, his relaxed muscles stiffening. "I do not see how that is relevant." His reply came more as a question than an irritation.

Alex shrugged, "I dunno. T'was from being around them today. And saying goodbye. Not just to them, but to all of it. Everything I could have been, or ever wanted," Alex sighed. "Maybe it's stupid, but I wanted to ask. Did you ever want children?"

"Why does it matter what I wanted when it cannot be changed now?"

"It matters. To me, it matters. Did you?"

Hal stayed his hands on her waist but looked away. His eyes grew distant and it was a while before he spoke. Alex started to think it was a mistake. She should have kept her heartache to herself. He was still so hard to read.

"I wanted... to leave behind the station I was given and make a choice for a different life," Hal's voice was even and detached as he returned his gaze to her, "You are asking if I made a choice for something that had never been an option."

"No. I'm asking if you ever wanted to. It's different."

Hal's expression was impassive. Unreadable. She kept hold of his gaze and the question, not letting it go. His eyes didn't change when he brought a slender finger to grace the edge of her cheek. Or when his arm slid around her waist to support her as he tilted her slowly down. His fingers following the line of her jaw, to her throat and down past her collar to her dress. Hal leaned forward, the lower reaches of his tight stomach pressing into her groin as he shifted the soft green silk up. His cool fingers traveled past her camisole and their locked eyes finally broke away with her shudder. When his lips met her stomach Alex no longer cared that he hadn't answered her question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *L'aqua che io gli daró diventerá in lui  
> una sargente d'acqua  
> che zampilla per la vita eterna.  
> The water that I shall give will become  
> A spring of water within,  
> Welling up for eternal life.
> 
> There are some great pictures of the garden and church if you search for ArchDioceseofGlasgow or St. Andrews Glasgow.


	4. An Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.
> 
> Reviews are welcome and loved.

The glow of dawn came over them too soon. Alex's hand was resting on Hal's navel, one finger lighting over the indentation. She would never tire of this. These moments when he didn't seem so far away; when he would let himself relax with her. Sex was dangerous, and perhaps always would remain so... But it was a small release as well. And since he still hadn't recovered from his injury enough to get much use out of running... Alex hadn't minded the increased need one bit.

She didn't want to let him go, even though she knew the hour was approaching; time to start the day. "You should call in sick," she suggested, circling his navel. "You haven't slept," she added to appeal to his logical side. But he merely sat up, running fingers through his errant hair.

Their morning activities had them leaving late enough that Hal had to drive to work. Alex offered to teleport them, but he declined. They weren't that late, he rebutted. Weaving through the side streets, avoiding other motorists already out to enjoy a sunny Sunday, Hal stole a glance to his left. Alex lounged in the passenger seat, window down and the breeze ruffling her hair. She caught his eye and smiled, her sad regrets from the prior day having been put behind. The contentment emanating from her was contagious on this sunny morning. Focusing on the road, Hal edged into the blind spot behind a delivery truck. The air through Alex's open window had a lingering hint of summer to it. He had always appreciated the turning of seasons. From the extroverted bright days to the insular protection of winter's onslaught, autumn was especially a time of transition. It really was only a few brief days every year - a week or two at most - that felt like they could stretch summer into forever, even if change was inevitable. For at least this brief moment, Hal could acknowledge his happiness, even if change were inevitable. Alex had completed closure with her family, and yet she was still here. She had elected to move forward, not remain rooted in her past. He hadn't been entirely certain she would come back.

At the hotel they parted ways. Hal hadn't sensed any other vampires lingering in the vicinity, and Alex had work to do too. But as the morning wore on, Hal's mood faded with his growing fatigue. The lack of sleep the past two nights was catching up to him.

"A friend came by lookin for ya," Megan's voice rang out like squeaky brakes, piercing through the stockroom inventory he was trying to get through.

"I heard," Hal managed with all the civility he could muster. He should have taken Alex's advice. Calling in sick was far preferable to ripping out a co-worker's throat.

"Are you alright?" The girl paused after retrieving the notepad she was after for reception, "Cuz you seem a bit peaky."

"Did he leave a name?" Hal ignored her pass.

"How'd you know he was a fella?" Still, she slipped the card out of her pocket and waved it in the air, "You naught be expecting on a lady caller?" At his scowl she handed the little card over.

Hal clenched his jaw and focused on his breath. R. Turner. In perfect letterpress. Richard always did appreciate the art. "I hardly see why that would be relevant," Hal muttered, realizing from the girl's lack of departure that he should say something. He placed the card on the clipboard in his hand like just another piece of work to attend to. His coworker was twirling her hair with the tip of a finger. A girl twirling her hair like that was always a bad sign... Or a good one, depending on the hunt...

"It's just me an' Sophie be having a wonder. And I just thought it was a nice spot of conversation to ask..." she crossed the threshold into the stockroom with him and flashed a smile.

"Sophie and I," Hal started, mirroring her step forward with a step back.

"What?!" Megan's voice raised a pitch in betrayal, her round and open face flashing to complete shock.

"Your grammar," Hal elaborated, letting his eyes drop irritably to the card on the clipboard.

"Oh! So you're not seeing anyone then?"

Jesus, not again. Alex had gotten the last one fired. She swore she hadn't, but Hal was beginning to recognize her zeal for mischief. Any excuse to ghost about. Hal couldn't help but sigh at the thought. Megan may be annoying, but she didn't deserve to have her bookings messed with. No, he would have to nip this in the bud.

With an expression that dropped the coy smile off Megan's face, Hal let his irritation show. "I am, as a matter of fact 'seeing someone'. Which coincidentally Miss Lloyd, is no business of yours. Or Sophie's."

Megan, her instincts ahead of her face, stepped back, her hair forgotten. "Oh. Oh well, that's... great," she stuttered, backing away. The girl momentarily looked as if she would say something else, but at Hal's hard stare thought better of it. Without another word, she turned and left.

Hal breathed a sigh of relief. Returning to his count of hand soaps, he wondered just how the hell Richard had found them. And he still had absolutely no idea what he was going to do about it. He couldn't kill Richard. His partner's death would be far too problematic. And yet, so far, there was no ambush in wait. Richard had departed, leaving only his card. A truce, it would seem.

When Alex appeared in the storeroom the dryer was whirring, soft and soothing. The room always struck her as stark. White walls, white shelves with row upon row of plush white towels and stacks of toilet tissue wrapped in white paper. A contrast in darks, Hal was standing with his back to her, holding a clipboard. Alex watched him for a moment, appreciating the strong line of his shoulders and the sensuous way his neck moved while he wrote.

"You really shouldn't do that when the door's open. Megan was just here," he spoke without looking at her. Since Alex had used her powers to save him, he had gotten superbly good at knowing exactly where she was.

Pulling a stack of shrink-wrapped plastic cups off the shelf, Alex made a face, "What'd she want? And no one can see me ninny. I always check before loading up."

Hal's eyes flicked to the card on his clipboard. Part of him wanted to tuck the card close to his chest. To hide it from her. Even after facing down Hetty and the imminent return to blood, Hal still had to fight that undermining side of himself every day. With reluctance he lowered the board, showing the card to Alex. Her brow furrowed and then her wide eyes grew wider.

"Turner as in Richard? As in your poison-happy partner Richard? Steer clear of the tea! Shit. I thought you said -"

"I was foolish to think that he wouldn't find me,"

"Shit," Alex set down her stack of cups. The open door behind them shut with the barest flick of her wrist, ensuring their privacy. "Do you think he'll come back?"

"That, I'm not foolish enough to doubt."

"You should tell Tom."

"What can Tom do about it?" Hal snapped irritably before admitting, "and he already knows."

"Tom already knows that Richard was here and he's not freaking out? Either Tom is more confident in his staking abilities than we give him credit for, or he doesn't really know."

"Tom is aware a vampire came by looking for me. And we don't need to go 'freaking' him out. He's busy enough as it is."

"Oh! Like Lit 101 is more important than his best friend's bloody life? Hal - your monkey-suited comrade tried to kill us - or have you forgotten?"

"No, I haven't forgotten. Just - look, I've known Richard for a disturbingly long time. If he wanted to kill me, he wouldn't have left his business card. He wants to talk."

"Talk. Huh," Alex leveled Hal with an incredulous look. "The last time you two talked, I ended up busting you out of a gaffer tape beauty wrap. Come on!"

"He's gone. He's not here now. What would you have me do? Run? Go after him? He'll either get in touch or come back but either way, I don't believe he wishes harm. At least not for the first move."

Alex gave a frustrated sigh. "What do you think he wants?"

Hal had that awkward way about him as he looked away, like he wished he hadn't spoken. "I gave him an opportunity when we last met. He has had time to think about it."

"An opportunity for what?"

Hal suddenly desperately needed a cup of tea. Alex had been right this morning. He should have called in sick. He set the clipboard down. He could come back to this later. He started to turn for the door.

"Hal," Alex wasn't going to let him evade her question this time.

Hand on the latch, he turned back to her. "To buy me out."

Hal didn't wait for her to ask anything else before he left the room and shut the door behind him.

Inside the housekeeping office, the telephone was ringing. Hal gave a nod to Tom, who was dicing tomatoes, as he passed through the kitchen. Hal didn't even bother speeding up; he knew the weakness in his stride would cause him to miss the call. He unlocked the door and stepped inside as the phone ended its trill. The tiny office which had at first felt so cloistered, was now a quiet retreat. Even Tom's tomatoes were abrading his senses. Red, wet and acidic... No. He pushed such thoughts away and set his tea down.

Before Hal could gather himself, the phone started ringing again. In a growl of frustration he reached for it across the desk, composing himself before answering, "Barry Grand, Housekeeping."

"Mr. Yorke," the voice was prim and clipped. Hal recognized the caller immediately even though they had never tried to reach them here. Until now, all contact with the Regulatory Office of Constructivism had been through the house.

"Mr. Rook," he acknowledged.

"I trust the arrangements for Miss Millar were satisfactory?"

"Yes. We returned this morning," Hal answered courteously despite the suspicion that this was more than a courtesy call. "Thank you."

"Are you aware that Richard Turner was tracked to your area yesterday?"

Rook's knowledge that Richard had been here only mildly surprised Hal. "It has been brought to my attention, yes."

"You have spoken with him then?"

"No, not since London. Why?"

"There has been... an incident. It would be best if you could visit the Archive at your earliest convenience."

"What kind of an incident?"

"I do not wish to disclose that here. We will see you soon, Mr. Yorke. Tonight, if you are able."

Hal set the phone back in it's electric cradle. Not the night prior, or even moments ago when speaking with Alex had it occurred to him the oddity of Richard's visit. His partner was not one to easily be deterred, which was one of the many reasons for his success in a cutthroat business. Only with Rook's phone call did it strike Hal as strange that Richard had come and gone so quickly. Even being a silent partner in the firm, Hal still knew that there couldn't have been that much urgent business to attend to on a Saturday.

Hal picked up the receiver and dialed the front desk, "Megan?"

"Hal," she answered brusquely.

Remembering the tone of their recent exchange, he started gently, "I apologize for earlier. I haven't slept."

"Because of your friend's funeral? You poor dear," Megan's tone brightened.

"I need to ask you about my friend who was here yesterday."

"Mr. Turner?"

Hal rolled his eyes. Who else? "Did he happen to mention where he was staying?"

"Actually, funny that. He was going to stay here."

"He's here? Why didn't you say!"

"Well he was. But it was not an hour 'fore he checked out again on account of some business emergency," Megan stated, answering what Hal needed to know. "I asked if it was the room cuz he had really wanted the suite but -"

"Thank you Megan," and Hal hung up the phone. Richard had been here looking for him, was prepared to stay and wait for his return, except urgent business required his sudden but voluntary departure. An incident, Rook had said. One that required Hal's return to the underground institutional warren they called the Archive. A place which he was loathe to expose himself to again.

He had only ventured the once with Alex. It had been just days after her "Men in Grey" had helped them to leave London. Alex had felt strongly that he accede to Mr. Rook's request to speak to him. Admittedly, Hal had been curious. For a shadow organization to have existed this long with the sworn purpose of keeping the supernatural world a secret? And none of his people had known about it? It was baffling, but had made a certain sense.

Upon meeting their rescuer, Hal remembered how the tinney overhead lights had exacerbated Rook's exceedingly pale colouring. It was a sign of a man who worked indoors more often than not despite his blonde complexion. Hal did not like to feel interviewed, but that wasn't why he had taken an inherent distrust of the fellow.

Rook had folded his hands upon his broad industrial desk in a deliberate attempt to set him at ease. "Are you aware of why I asked you to come?" he had asked, bluntly cutting in without small talk.

Hal twitched an eyebrow, "I gathered as much from Alex."

"Is she here?"

"Yes," Hal tilted his head to his left to where Alex was leaning against a filing cabinet. Rook's eyes followed and looked blankly for a moment before turning back to him. Alex had stuck her tongue out at him, Hal recalled. It appeared that she was right. Once again, she was invisible.

"I see," he stated, even though he clearly could not. "Mr. Yorke, your friends have already elaborated on your situation. That is not why I wished to speak with you." Hal regarded Rook, dropping into an impassive expression reflexively. Rook continued, "Your condition is quite rare."

"With Alex?" Hal hazarded. Even to the Old Ones, the Hangori were legendarily rare ghosts.

"We were fortunate enough to speak with her directly in that regard. It is most intriguing, but that is not quite what I meant," Rook smiled toothily and leaned forward. "You realize the only reason we crossed paths is because we expected to be dampening a fiasco in London? But you took us by surprise, Mr. Yorke."

Hal didn't respond, so Rook continued, "To have refused your nature for so long? How did you do it? And now? A shining example of control. And with your past no less," Rook had smiled almost like a co-conspirator. Hal had wondered just what this man thought he knew about him. As it turned out, a lot. "In all our histories and records, we haven't come across one quite like you."

"I'm not the only vampire to form a conscience. At our very abode was another, John Mitchell."

"Yes and look what happened with that one! The Box Tunnel massacre made the press only because we let our guard down about him. It will not happen again," Rook's smile hardened. "I'm familiar with your file. You were truly an atrocious specimen. Cruelest to your own kind and merciless to prey... What changed? Was it boredom?"

Hal balked, stealing a glance at Alex. She had crossed her arms defensively over her chest and was looking at Rook open-mouthed. She caught the movement of his eyes and with surprising sympathy, tilted her head questioningly.

"In a manner of speaking... yes," Hal conceded reluctantly. Rook arched his sharp eyebrows, having not expected Hal to agree with him. He waited a moment for Hal to elaborate. When he did not, Rook shrugged with a casual smile.

"This department has a long history of studying the psychology of monsters, Type Twos in particular. We were hoping to arm ourselves with knowledge, but it was all poppycock," Rook paused, calculating Hal's expression before continuing. "There is no psychology. The very cellular nature changes, as I'm certain you know. It does not matter if the affected person was a priest, a potter, a mercenary... or a bastard son of a whore. The result is all the same."

Alex must have seen or sensed some bodily response in him at that point, for she came to stand next to him, placing a slender hand on his shoulder.

Rook had leaned forward again, taking Hal in with a piercing assessment. "You fascinate us though. Most accept their natures and maintain a fairly even keel. Yet, you oscillate from good, to bad, to worse. You know it makes the fall all the more catastrophic, yet you pursue it over and over again, to the detriment of humanity and even your very own household. Why is that, Mr. Yorke?"

"You forget that we are not alone," Hal clenched his jaw and felt Alex tense beside him.

"I have not forgotten, but you must forgive me. I merely assumed you would have told Miss Millar. You two seemed close," Rook smiled.

"Told me what Hal?" Alex's wide eyes were reluctantly curious. She pulled away and finally sat in the chair next to him, looking between him and Mr. Rook.

"She knew of the risk," Hal's voice had gone very quiet. He was more shocked than anything at what Rook seemed to be alluding to.

"And yet tragically, knowing was not enough. She met her end along with everyone else," Rook concluded with haughtiness.

Hal's breath hitched. How dare this smug little man know about that. How the hell could he have known about that? This man's great-great-grandparents hadn't even been born yet. There hadn't been a trace, he had made sure of it.

In lieu of leaping across the table and strangling the smile right off the man's face, Hal asked with only mild restraint, "What do you want, Rook?" They needed to get to the point before this man unearthed any more of his skeletons.

"Two centuries gone and still strikes a nerve I see. That's encouraging I suppose," Rook's blue eyes narrowed as he seemed to consider Hal across the desk from him. Then he opened a drawer and brought out a simple flask. "We would like to prevent it from happening again. No one has to die, Hal."

Without Rook telling him Hal knew the flask contained blood, so fresh it was still warm. Even with the cap on, he could smell it.

Rook placed the flask between them on the desk. "We have programs in place. Limited, of course. But for a time now we have supplied certain informants with the means to blood. Legally."

Under the table, Alex had reached for his hand, "Hal let's go. You don't need it. You've proven that. Come on," she tugged. He resisted, remained rooted in the hard chair. Just half the amount of that flask would be all it would take to heal him... Hal hadn't moved, hadn't made a motion towards the temptation in the slightest, but Alex shook him. "Hal!"

"Thank you, but I must decline," Hal stated and let Alex pull him up. Rook stood as well, seemingly to rebut him, but Hal continued, "We are in your debt, so I will help your department if I am able to do so. But I cannot accept what you are offering."

The two men held locked gazes for a moment, each seemingly trying to exert his will over the other, until Rook renewed a warm smile and extended his hand. Hal hesitated before reaching across the table. The man's hand was dry and cool. "Fair enough," Rook conceded. "We will have to keep our surveillance then. You understand."

Hal nodded grimly, releasing the handshake, "Fair enough."

Afterwards, on the drive home Hal had told Alex about Sylvie. He wasn't going to. Or at least, not yet. But Alex had asked in that open way of hers, "Who was she?" Hal felt the reluctant need to answer. Still, it took him several miles before he could say it.

"Sylvie... was my wife. And... mortal. Very few knew, even then."

Alex, for once had been shocked into uncharacteristic silence. The moment stretched and Hal had started to regret telling her. This was too much of his past, too soon. But when she finally broke it, she wasn't angry. "You know, I never would have pegged you as the marrying type."

"It was customary, at the time. If one were to court a lady of her standing, eventually -"

"No, I get it. How long did it last?"

"The courtship? Or her life?"

"Both, it sounds like."

"Not long enough." But that wasn't what Alex wanted to know. After another silent mile, he admitted, "They were the longest, and simultaneously the shortest years of my life."

Alex didn't respond or needle him any further and for that he was glad. But he felt guilt. She shouldn't have had to find out this way. They had become close so quickly that it hadn't even entered his mind that he should have told her, until it was too late.

"Alex..." he felt her gaze shift from the window back to him. "I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner."

She just shook her head. "Hal, you've been around for a long-assed time. I'd be an idiot to think I was the only one to have gotten close to you." Alex never failed to surprise him. Unlike many of her generation, she was wise beyond her limited years.

Hal could count on one hand the people who knew he had killed Sylvie in the end. Alex and Mr. Rook now included. Maybe in time he could tell her more. Perhaps she had sensed that. When they returned home and Allison had asked jovially how it went, Alex spoke on his behalf. Told her and Tom it went fine. That Rook just wanted to know how Hal managed to stay clean. It wasn't long afterward that Rook's department had kept true to their word. Alex's family had been informed of her untimely passing and plans for the recently attended memorial had been set in place.

Yes, it had been a difficult couple of weeks.

It wasn't just Rook's offer he was reluctant to expose himself to again. Dominic Rook had a way about him that had lodged under Hal's skin. Using knowledge as a weapon reminded him too much of Snow, and... of himself. He was loathe to find out just what else Rook had unearthed in the Archive of vampire history.

Hal once more lifted the telephone receiver. He didn't need to refer to the card to know Richard Turner's private number. It was the same number the vampire had kept for decades, only now it was forwarded to various mobile devices. Perhaps if he just got it over with and talked with Richard, then maybe he could avoid Rook's request altogether.

Or, perhaps not.

For the first time since the invention of caller identification, Richard Turner failed to answer when Hal called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *For purposes of this story, the character of Sylvie is one of the few bits of canon adopted from Series 5. I laid the groundwork for someone like her from Hal's past halfway through WwaG, Ch. 25-26. And then Whimsyfox started writing her story Set You Free and I 100% FELL for her Sylvie. If you wish to know my now-in-existence headcanon about Hal & Sylvie, I strongly recommend reading Set You Free. A delightfully beautiful and heartbreaking story that is so well done you'll thank me for the recommendation. Promise.


	5. Solidity and Sunbeams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.
> 
> Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates.

Glancing down the corridor to ensure he was alone, Hal gave the customary trio of knocks, then used his master key to enter the suite. The door had been locked. Alex had no need for keys.

She was tugging on a pillowcase, the pillow levitating out in front of her when he came in. If someone else were to enter - another one of the staff - without his signal she would vanish. Thus far, there hadn't been need. Hal kept a clear schedule matrix.

He crossed the room to where she was working, noting the open window behind her. The air felt fresh with the sun-warmed salt breeze. A gull cried nearby. She had removed her jacket, exposing the bare skin of her shoulders and chest.

"Hey sugar," she greeted but kept on tucking in the pillow. She was still ruffled about earlier.

"I need to talk to you," Hal stated, standing opposite the bed.

"So talk," Alex placed the first pillow and levitated the second over from the stack of linens on the nearby table. Hal eyed the freshly-made bed, surprised at how tempted he was to lie down.

"Rook telephoned," he stated bluntly. "They are aware Richard was here. He wishes to meet regarding an incident he couldn't speak of over the line."

"Today?" Alex asked. Hal nodded the affirmative. "Well that will be just lovely fun on top of everything else. I'll come with you."

Hal was relieved she understood so quickly. Returning to the Archive was a return to Rook's offer. Hal didn't like feeling reliant, or even directly asking for help. But he had to admit that Alex continued to be instrumental in his fight against temptation, even if she herself was included in those temptations.

"Is that clean?" He asked despite knowing it was.

"Yeah, course," Alex replied.

"Good," Hal threw back the duvet and sat down with a sigh. He was damned tired.

Alex finally stopped what she was doing and flopped onto the bed next to him. Surprisingly, she had that mischievous grin of hers. Before he could even protest she kissed him. "You're on lunch now, right?" She asked against his mouth.

"Mmph. Yes, but -"

"Good. You need a nap," she asserted. His protest was smothered by another enthusiastic kiss as she straddled his lap. "Mmm, you taste like tea."

"Alex -" but he couldn't finish the thought. She was untucking his shirt, sliding her hands up to the bare skin of his stomach. His response was immediate. He groaned.

"Take off your shoes," she whispered, her breath warm on his neck.

"Half the night and this morning wasn't enough? Jesus woman."

"It'll never be enough," she said huskily, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders. Against his better judgment, reason was rapidly leaving.

"Alex -" he moaned but tried to push her away. "Not at work."

"Hal come on, lighten up! I've wanted to do this since you were hired," she admitted and renewed her fervor in kissing him. Hal's hands were stroking the smooth silk over the curves of her waist almost against his will.

"But we weren't doing _any_ of this yet."

"I know," she pivoted her hips in a way that made a growl escape his throat and his hands move to the ribbon of her dress. Their clothes were gone in a matter of seconds.

It was times like these, when the urge to be as close as they physically could overrode all other thoughts, that Hal wondered if sex with Alex, or Alex herself, had truly become a new addiction to add to his list. It had all gotten so tangled. He no longer knew what was the pull of her blood versus the amore of emotion he felt for her. In that moment, with sunlight boldly streaming in to illuminate her skin as he moved in her, Hal didn't care.

Leaning into him, she stifled his moan with a kiss. "Shush," she breathed. "Wouldn't do... to be heard..." she whispered. She had a point, except no one could hear a ghost. Hal smiled wickedly and switched his efforts to elicit such illicit sounds teased from _her_ lips. He was quite successful. The noise she made at their climax was deliciously primal, whereas Hal had to bite down on his lip.

He held her to his chest as they came down, the gulls bearing the only sounds once more. With the weight of her, and the warm sunlight, the pull of sleep was a heavy thing to fight. He stroked the long line of her spine in an attempt to stay awake. "I'll have to order extra lamp bulbs if we keep this up," he muttered into her hair. She had burnt one out overhead.

"Mmm..." she lifted her head to look at him with a contented smile. "There's time if you want to sleep. I'll wake you."

Hal knew that he needed to. He kissed her softly and accepted, "Okay."

Alex snuggled against him, holding her warmth to his torso with his head tucked under her chin. She could feel the weight of his fatigue pulling them down but she resisted it. Instead she glanced at the clock to gauge the time, and let her thoughts drift. Gazing out the window at the few passing clouds, she idly stroked his stomach. His face relaxed. He had already drifted into dreaming, she could tell by the barest twitch behind his eyelids. It should be criminal for a man to have such long lashes as he did. She couldn't believe he had let her get away with this. She thoroughly expected to be refused. _They were in trouble, big time._ Now that she got him to agree here once... Alex smiled. It was undeniable. He was softening with her. Trusting her, opening to her. She loved him all the more for it.

She didn't want anything to change it. Earlier, when he had told her about Richard she had felt so fiercely protective. Why couldn't they just leave him be? Why couldn't the world just leave _them_ be? Alex had a sinking feeling that between Richard's reappearance and Rook's insistence that Hal talk to him about it, something was going to change, and soon. It filled her with dread.

She woke Hal with enough time to have a shower. Returning to work smelling like he did would not diffuse the advances of their female co-workers. As he gathered his garments that had gotten surprisingly strewn, she couldn't help that her eyes were drawn to the angry red line across his thigh. Two weeks and the burn still looked god awful. He had admitted that he wasn't sure if it would ever heal, as long as he remained dry. The last burn he had received from Tom's blood hadn't. At least he had perfected making a limp look sexy, she thought as he left for the shower.

Alex stood and pulled the sheets from the bed as the water came on. She'd have to replace them. Stepping into a sunbeam from the open window, she reveled in the sense of warmth on her bare skin. In moments like this she felt so completely solid, it was easy to forget she wasn't to anyone else but him. She sauntered to the bath and carefully pulled the curtain aside. His back was to her as he rinsed, steam and spray rising. The water dulled his senses and she didn't think he had heard her approach. Alex crept past the curtain, feeling the spray but not being affected by it. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and pressed her breasts into his back. Hal didn't say anything, didn't rebut her, merely leaned against her, a hand coming up to cup her arm. The water poured between them like she wasn't there at all. Saddened she still wasn't as solid as she felt, she placed a kiss on the damp skin at the back of his neck before teleporting away. Like a permanent reset, her clothes - from her boots to her bra - reappeared in perfect order. The water turned off and Alex went about stripping the pillowcases she had just put on while he dressed.

At the door, she straightened his collar even though he didn't need it. Except for his lips that were delightfully swollen from kissing, he looked impeccable as always. "Meet me here after your shift?"

"I was going to drive," he answered sleepily.

"In daylight? It will take you ages! Now that we've been there once I can teleport us."

Hal rubbed his face with a sigh, "Alex, you know how I feel about that. Besides, it's Rook's request. If I cause a traffic accident or a heart attack because someone failed to see me in a mirror, it's on his department to deal with."

"Yeah, but I also know you need more than a twenty minute disco nap. If I teleport us then we can be there and back again in time for a mildly normal evening."

He looked like he was forming an argument so she stepped in and kissed him, "Just think on it, okay? I'll tidy up our love nest here and see you later, alright?"

Hal leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "Okay," he agreed.

* * *

The library at Cardiff Law left much to be desired if one was seeking anything other than Law. They hardly had a decent literature section, much less books on the supernatural, which is how Allison Larkin continually found herself at Cardiff Central library between classes. Today, she was seated in the reader's lounge with her laptop. The rustle of newspages and the clickety-clack of other computer users was a peaceful accompaniment to the sunbeam she was enjoying while she worked.

She had begun the project even before her first transformation had confirmed her suspicions. Something had attacked her that she couldn't debate, rationalize or ignore during her Duke of Edinburgh's Award camping expedition. The creature had sideswiped her and knocked her down like she was no more than an irritation. One bloody shoulder and a broken pair of glasses was all she suffered. One un-blurred glance was all she had before the beast was gone, loping off into the darkness. No one had been with her to corroborate her story. No one had been with her to confirm that what she _thought_ she saw had been real. So she had played it off. Patched herself up with her first aid kit, using all her sterile wipes and claimed she stumbled while gathering firewood. And then, as soon as she returned home she began looking for an explanation as to what she had seen. "Just to be safe" she had spirited away that first full moon, still disbelieving until the first gut-clenching spasm of the transformation took over. Afterwards, her research had been to find an explanation for what she had become.

Her introduction and subsequent involvement with Honolulu Heights hadn't deterred her one bit. Tom and Hal had both taught her much about their world, but Allison knew it wasn't the whole story. In the months since she had been turned, she had become a collector - a connoisseur if it were - of supernatural leads, rumors and dead-ends. If anything, the dead ends were even more fascinating now that she knew of the work Mr. Rook and his department oversaw. She had sent him a message requesting scholarly access to the archive. Thus far, he had neglected to get back to her.

On her computer, she had scanned, saved and categorized over 200 news articles, mentions and rumors of potential werewolf activity. It was global. Their contagion was spread worldwide, each area having its own name and mythology to explain the phenomena. Lycanthrope, Skinwalker, Wendigo, Loup-garou, Mannaro, Nahaul, Lobisomem - she had hunted down stories on them all. But their kind in whatever name seemed to be scattered, generally lone incidents here and there and sparse.

With the oddly curious exception of Brazil. The Lobisomem, which merely translated to 'werewolf' in Portuguese, were often referred to as "them," "they" and "Pack". They were even rumoured to have their own city. Joanópolis was openly known as the supposed "Capital of the Werewolf" with more recorded sightings than any other location she had come across. The stories began circulating in frequency about a pack of man-sized wolves in the jungle. The stories had appeared mysteriously and, after only a decade, had petered off and disappeared again. Almost as if a werewolf pack had at some point broken away from the modern world to disappear into the jungles, never to be heard from again. Allison had been fascinated, but had stored it away in her archive of stories along with the rest. The closer she became to Tom however, the more she had realized just how much of his life had been spent looking for such a pack. So she had renewed her curiosity.

Making use of one of her favorite Google tools, she had been able to roughly translate a recent article citing an "eyewitness" account of the Lobisomem. With a name like Vinicius Emanuel da Rocha Batista, Allison had easily tracked him down. A young historian and folklorist for the area, his claim that he had caught a glimpse of the wolves was actually quite suspect. No one had believed him. One online commenter even accused him of being in the pocket of the local tourist board. So when Allison had contacted him with an email in passable Portuguese citing a scholarly interest that accompanied her own sighting, she hoped he would be intrigued enough reply.

_Saudações. Estou muito curioso para ouvir da sua conta._

Even without translating the brief email, Allison nearly broke the sanctity of library silence with a yip of excitement. Her query had been returned!


	6. The Department Makes a Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._
> 
> _Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates. And now, with help from TJ4ev and whimsyfox, I give you my first reveal..._
> 
> * * *

Birdsong cut off abruptly when Hal & Alex appeared. They were in front of the rusty old container door that disguised the entrance to the Archive. The birds didn't like teleporting vampires any more than he did, Hal thought.

"Shit. What do we do, knock? You didn't have an exact appointment," Alex stated. They both glanced up to the tiny camera that couldn't see either of them.

"You could have brought us directly inside."

"Oh, and give some poor bloke a heart attack?"

"Knocking then," Hal conceded, but Alex was already gone. If there had been a guard, they would have been quite startled. She opened the door for him from the inside. Her grin lit up her face.

The first person they encountered was Mike Nave. The newest member of the Regulatory Office of Constructivism was carrying a file in one hand and a fresh cup of strong-smelling coffee in the other. He stopped in his tracks, startled, "Hal! You're... uh, how did you -"

"We let ourselves in. Apologies," Hal answered politely before Nave finished.

Nave paused, looking at the empty space next to Hal. "Alex, hello." Alex smiled at his attempt to be courteous to someone he couldn't see. "I meant how did you get here?" Nave continued, "We're expecting you, but your car hasn't moved since this morning... I was supposed to alert Mr. Rook when you were on your way..." Hal raised an eyebrow.

"They're _still_ tracking the car?" Alex said. "And we're the ones who are supposed to be creepy..."

Hal didn't feel like explaining the wonders of rent-a-ghosting for Nave. All he wanted was to get this over with and go home. "Well you can alert him now. He is in his office, I presume?"

"Yeah, go on then," Nave waved down the corridor beyond them with the file he was holding. He still couldn't get past the fact that Hal Yorke was far more ancient than most vampires they encountered. It was unnerving. With Hal's departure Nave tucked the file under his arm and reached for the nearest internal phone, "Sir? They're here."

Rook was seated at his desk and expecting them when his office door opened. Noting that the door had closed on its own accord a pause after Hal entered, he greeted, "Mr. Yorke. Miss Millar."

Hal crossed the room and sat down. Alex did the same, scuffing the chair rudely as a return acknowledgment of her presence. "Mr. McNair and Miss Larkin? I trust that they are well?"

"They're both in class, as I'm certain you know," Hal stated without veiling his irritation.

"Excellent," Rook ignored the barb. "I'm glad everyone is adjusting so well."

"What couldn't you say on the telephone?" Hal pushed to the point.

"You traveled here unconventionally," Rook stated, ignoring Hal's attempt to steer the conversation. "I had wondered if you could still do that. Miss Millar informed us that was how you escaped the bomb at Stokers."

"You couldn't ask me over the phone about rent-a-ghosting?" Hal was getting exasperated. His temper ran short when it came to Rook.

Alex put a hand on his arm, "Maybe we should have driven. Sorry Hal."

Rook watched Hal listen to the ghost and smiled, "It simply makes matters more convenient. The Department needs your help, but allocating your travel could look questionable at the moment."

"Travel?" Alex perked up with the prospect and Hal merely raised an eyebrow.

"You need you to visit the Outer Hebrides."

"The fuck we do?" Alex asked.

"Excuse me, why?" Hal narrowed his eyes at Rook.

Rook pushed his chair away from the desk and stood with his hands behind his back. "Your colleague was called away because at seven-hundred hours yesterday morning, there was an incident. The club near your office, one of your firm's older holdings in London, was bombed."

Hal furrowed his brow, but before he could even ask Rook opened one of the files from atop his desk. In it was a spread of photographs. Stone, rubble and brick, a blackened hole, a railroad tie violently impaled through the street. Alex recognized what was left of the railway arch from their trip to Crucifix Lane.

"Due to the hour of the incident, no one was hurt. At least, no bodies have yet been found. You know as well as I do that wasn't merely a music club."

Hal was flipping through the pictures. It looked as if the bomb was set off underground. When Hal finally spoke, all he said was, "They took out the ring."

"Yes. And this wasn't the first." Rook seated himself once more at his desk, folding his hands neatly upon it. "Six weeks ago, a warehouse in Sheffield met a mysterious end. And then, another in Derby. Just after we relocated you back to Barry, an isolated quadrant of the Clifton Rocks Railway imploded in Bristol."

"They're all dogfight rings," Hal recognized.

"Yes. We know. Our intelligence points to at least two other incidents. One in Bolivia, and another in Brazil. All within the last ten weeks."

"Werewolves," Hal stated.

"Certainly. What reason would vampires have to be targeting their own properties? Now, we know your household was not involved. You were... detained for most of the past occurrences."

"Why wasn't I told about this? Surely Richard..."

"Because we're very good at our jobs, Mr. Yorke. I doubt your partner knew, until now. He has been rather preoccupied as well, you see."

"Why would anyone have told you Hal?" Alex asked.

Rook observed Hal pause and look to his left. "They are Turner and Yorke properties, Alex. Old One investments."

"You invested in _dogfight_ rings?" She asked incredulously. Hal met her eyes, then looked away. There were many things in his past he wasn't proud of and the operation of dogfights was certainly one of them. Especially after having known and earned both Leo's friendship, and now Tom's.

"The Bermondsey bombing, as they're now calling it I might add, is a little too public for us. It has been an inter-departmental nightmare. You see, most of the other agencies are not aware of our work," Rook leaned forward. "This incident already had Interpol, Special Branch and City Public Works involved before we could be on the scene. Our hands are tied."

Hal was quiet, thinking through everything Rook had told them. "Richard - he will be implicated?"

"Mr. Turner already has been. Or else, it is just a matter of time. We are doing what we can, but Special Branch _will_ connect the dots to the other properties. Richard will be questioned, possibly detained. You are aware we cannot allow that to happen."

"Richard has a front for the company - a spokesman. In the event of matters such as these -"

"The one who passed away in 2010? Hal, I daresay you are behind the times. Mr. Turner has been too preoccupied or too complacent to find a suitable replacement. Things do look quite bad. Shit has hit the proverbial fan." Rook said it casually, like this were an everyday occurrence. "We may not have a choice but to remove Richard from the picture. And unfortunately, to add insult to injury, Stokers fits the profile as well. The explosions were caused by the same propellant." Rook let the implication that this could come back to Tom lay silent.

"I find it hard to believe there is nothing else you can do," Hal replied.

"Without risking the exposure of my entire department and therefore our very mission? No. All we can hope to do is to find and implicate the Type Three's who are actually responsible for these attacks."

"Shit. Holy Mission Impossible, Batman," Alex enthused sarcastically. "I still don't get what the upper reaches of Scotland has to do with it though."

"Alex wants to know what the Hebrides has to do with it," Hal translated.

"Ah yes. This is where your unique position comes in. We have reason to suspect the Brazilians. They are the only congregating order of their Type that we are aware of, and quite furtive. One of them recently defected from their pack and relocated to the western Isle of Harris. We need you to speak to him. Find out what he knows. If anyone asks, you will be visiting Yvonne Bradshaw on Grimsay. It is public knowledge she sought refuge at Honolulu Heights so that should -"

"What on earth makes you think this werewolf will talk to me?" Hal interrupted Rook's scheming. "Wouldn't Tom have better luck?" Hal wasn't overly eager for any of this to begin with.

"Because Hal, the Brazilian is the partner of an old friend of yours."

"That I doubt. Most of my old friends are dead."

"Even Mr. Corinth?"

"Carl..." Hal looked disbelieving, "Carl's _alive_?"

"As much as we can call any of your kind."

"This is all well and good, but he's missing one problem." Alex interjected. "I can only rent-a-ghost that far if I've been there. And I've never been to any of the Hebrides. Inner or Outer."

Hal, recovering from shock over his friend, relayed "Alex has a point. She can only teleport to places she's been."

"How far north can she travel then? We will arrange for a car to be waiting."

Hal stood abruptly, shocking both Rook and Alex. "I need to think about this."

"Mr. Yorke, time is of the essence," Rook stood as well.

"I'm aware of that, _Mr._ Rook. But I don't work for you."

"No. You don't. You work in _housekeeping_."

Hal clenched his jaw and felt Alex take his hand. "As do you, Dominic. Good bye."

Hal turned to go, pulling free from Alex's grasp. She glanced back at Rook. His face was turning red with anger. "Hal, but what if we can help?" She asked, following him.

"I'm sure we could. However if I don't leave right now _someone_ is going to get hurt," Hal muttered.

He was through the door when Rook shouted after them, "This affects all of us! You have a responsibility. Hal!"

Hal was already halfway down the corridor.

* * *

Outside the sky was aglow through the trees. Hal left the containment of the Archive and kept walking. Alex was quick to catch up to him and reached for his hand. He pulled away again, tapping his fingers in a quick pattern.

"Just - give me a moment. Please."

Alex hung back, but gently asked, "Bloodlust?"

Hal snorted, "No, for once." His stalking pace started to slow. "I'm merely hacked off." Hal took a deep breath. The container was already out of sight. They could be anywhere in the woods. "I don't enjoy being manipulated. Rook -"

"Is doing his job."

Hal didn't say anything to that, just continued to even his breathing and tap his fingers while he gazed out at the trees. Alex glanced back the way they had come. The forest was quiet without any sign of pursuit from Rook. She returned her gaze to Hal's fidgety stance and tried again. "Look - I really couldn't give a rat's crease what happens to Richard. But what about Tom? What about _you_? He was there - we all were."

"Tom isn't involved in this. There is no evidence to connect -"

"And you don't care that they're blowing up your ring-whatevers?"

"No, actually. I really don't." Hal took a deep breath and returned his gaze to her. "I know that we are in that man's debt. That's fine. A favour is one thing. But don't you see? This is more than a favour. This is us getting _involved_ again. In exactly what we're all trying to avoid."

"Hal," she scoffed at him. Actually scoffed. "You _are_ involved."

His barely-under-control temper flared again, but he dampened it. She was right. And his anger wasn't with her. "I know," he agreed finally.

"Aren't you the least bit curious?" Alex asked. She sure was.

"About Carl? I haven't seen him in over a century. And I doubt he'll be too keen to see me. Rook thinks we have an in, but it's really not much of one. Especially if he's with a werewolf..."

"But if what Rook said was true, this could lead to the exposure of the supernatural world. Isn't that bad? Isn't that precisely what we stopped the Old Ones from doing?"

"The Old Ones wanted to rule the world, not merely destroy its mythology. But yes, it would be bad," Hal concurred. He resumed walking and was contemplative for a few paces. Alex kept pace with him. "We can't go to the Hebrides though. Even with teleporting back to Glasgow, it will take too much time. The hotel has its challenges, but it's a slice of normality for me. I'd rather not lose it, honestly."

"You know, I've been thinking about that."

"You seemed to be enjoying the perks today."

She slapped him lightheartedly on the arm, "Not the hotel." Hal must be calming down if he could throw a dig at her. "About how we'd get to Harris."

"And?"

"Well, you've been there, right?"

"I've been to Grimsay, but not Harris."

"But Grimsay is a helluva lot closer than Glasgow."

"I fail to see your point."

"Rent-a-ghosting..." Alex tried to explain it in way that could carry what she was thinking. "There's a little more to it than just 'if you can picture it you can be there'. It's kind of like playing make-believe. Like in Peter Pan how the Lost Boys were always full because they could imagine a feast laid out before them every night?"

"You've lost me. How would J.M. Barrie have known anything about it?"

"We're linked, right? I can sometimes feel what you feel, you always know right where I am," Alex stated, linking her arm through his. He nodded but still remained perplexed. Alex launched into the meat of her idea. "I wonder, if you concentrated hard enough, pictured it fully, if we could rent-a-ghost somewhere I've never been, but _you_ have."

Hal pulled free of her arm, stopped walking. "No. Never in a thousand years. Teleporting is horrendous enough without throwing psychic experimentation into the mix."

"But you saw me at the club - if I don't get it right I don't go anywhere. Nothing happens."

"Or, you could get it half-right and I'll be the lucky one who ends up splinched like in those wizard books Pearl loved."

"Pearl read _Harry Potter_?" Alex guffawed. She never met the woman but from Tom's description of the pert and controlling ghost, she just couldn't picture it. "We could practice first? There has to be somewhere around here you've been to and I haven't."

"That I highly doubt. And no."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Certainly. How about we tell Rook to bugger off?"

"Or, we could do this for him. Get to Harris some conventional way, find out what this werewolf knows and then we're done with him. We won't owe Rook the time of day after that."

"Do you really think it could be that simple?" Hal said, asking sarcastically. "I wasn't cognizant when he arranged for our travel out of London, so you may have a better understanding of his motives than I. But I doubt Rook is the type to let sleeping dogs lie. No pun intended."

"After we find out what he needs to know, what more could he want from you? From any us?"

"It doesn't matter what he wants. It's what he'll do to get it that concerns me. He has far more knowledge and power over our household for than I'd like."

"Yeah, but is there anything at all we can do about it?" Alex asked and Hal didn't answer. "At least if we show a good faith attempt, then maybe Rook will leave us alone."

Hal resumed walking and was thoughtful for several moments. The evening birdsong and the crunch of newly-fallen leaves underfoot were the only sounds. He broke the silence by uttering with painful reluctance, "The Trading Post."

"The what?" Alex was startled out of her own thoughts of trying to recall other Northern locales she had visited.

"The pawn shop where Tom & I found the ring Leo wanted. You couldn't have been there. It closed."

"Oh - so you want to give it a go then?"

"No, I rather wouldn't. However... our options are dwindling. And I see your point," Hal offered his hand to her. "Good faith effort."

"Now?" Alex took both his hands in hers and looked unsure. He nodded. But now that he had agreed, doubts began to echo through her. God - what if she _could_ hurt him? Or get them stuck in between somewhere? The thought hadn't crossed her mind. Teleporting with Hal was no different than teleporting with anything else. Just a simple matter of moving from one spot, to another.

He noticed her hesitation and tilted his head, "What must I do?"

"Um... just picture it in every detail you can I suppose..."

"That's all?"

"Yeah... but - we don't have to do this. Maybe there's another way?"

He squeezed her hands, "Perhaps. However, if it works it _is_ an intriguing idea."

Alex sighed and bit her lip. She kept his gaze, her silhouette reflected in his eyes against the filtered light as she stepped close. She moved her right hand to wind through his hair, and to pull his forehead to hers. "Okay," she whispered. This was her grand idea, she better give as much of a good faith effort as he. "Build a picture in your mind. Not just where, but colour, texture, the layout of the room, everything you can think of."

Hal placed his free hand loosely around her shoulders, mimicking her stance. Then with one last questioning look, he nodded, closed his eyes. Alex did the same, tuning her focus into trying to "taste" from him. At first, there was nothing. Light was dappling through the darkness of her vision, distant birdsong peppering her ears. The wind stirred, and she sensed a deep note of allure. A scent so rich, so tantalizing… with a start she realized; _How she smelled to him._ She became aware that she was sipping off his other senses; the birdsong felt startlingly closer, the wind in the upper branches was near melodic in how it whispered. Underneath her scent were others; the musky fur of an animal detected further away, deer perhaps; soil, composting leaves, concrete beneath them. And beneath all of the sounds, subtle and unequivocally loud all at once, pulsed her very own heartbeat. Alex heard her breath catch in the _overwhelm_ of it all, and she almost broke contact.

But then an image started to form. From a pinprick of sepia growing outwards, the image spread like a reveal of watercolour. _Like the credits on Robert Downey JR's Sherlock..._ she thought. The room came into focus. Walls, floor, counter, the way the light from the storefront pierced and filtered, and with it, that teasing sense of _place_ she needed.

With a building excitement, Alex _got it_. And then they were gone.


	7. Ripples on a Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.  
>  Beta _assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal.__ Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates.  
> 
> 
> * * *

The change in air confirmed they had appeared _somewhere_. The forest had been cool, breezy. _Here_ was sequestered, and startlingly stuffy. Alex opened her eyes to see the absolute shock on Hal's face.

"You didn't think it was really going to work," she grinned a haughty taunt. "And it totally fucking worked!" She kissed him gleefully and then let go to look around. There were boards up over the glass storefront, but light was peeking through the cracks. Hal shook his head, trying to clear it and checked himself. _Everything seemed to be accounted for..._

"Is this it? This isn't what you showed me," Alex was craning her neck left and right to look around. The room was empty with only a display case covered in dust, empty shelves, and sun shadows on the wall where things used to be hung.

Hal felt like Alex hadn't just merely teleported them, but shocked him somehow in the process. His head was pounding to the rhythm of her heartbeat and he felt his fatigue momentarily wash over him. When he opened his mouth to speak, the movement of his jaw made his ears pop as if they had suddenly descended from a great height. He wasn't certain, but elevation-wise, they may have done just that. She reached for his arm with growing concern, "Shite - you're okay, right?"

He took a steadying breath. It was all quickly passing. "This is it. They must have sold everything when it closed. And yes, I'm all here it would seem."

Alex, relieved he was okay, said with renewed excitement, "This is incredible! You know what this means? We can go anywhere! You've been all over, right? Oh! You've been to _Paris!_ "

"Alex, please," he waved a hand for her to stop moving so much. Leaning against the counter he looked around them and sighed. They wouldn't be able to leave via the front since it was boarded up. He wondered if there was another door. "Places I've been - it was half a century ago or more. Too much has changed. I knew this would be empty, but you can't have me appearing out of nowhere in front of people. How would that even work?"

Her face fell, but she pressed on, "We'd figure something out, I think." Her excitement dropped as she came over, leaning an elbow on the counter next to him. "It'll still work for Grimsay though, right?"

"Perhaps. I'll need to reflect on my memories of there. It's remote enough I should be able to think of an appropriate place..." he admitted wearily with a sigh. "But not tonight. I need to go home."

Alex straightened and tried to hook her arms around his waist, but he held up a hand in protest. "Walking would be preferable, if you don't mind."

"What about the car?" Alex asked.

"Tomorrow. We'll fetch it tomorrow," Hal straightened and eyed the corridor that led to the back room. He could see light under the bottom of the door. "This way."

* * *

Allison had kicked off her shoes. With her rainbow striped socks curled under her on the sofa she was leaning quite contentedly against Tom. Before heading back to class that afternoon she had emailed a response to Vinicius, detailing what she saw without mentioning just how _close_ her encounter had been. She had asked about his own sighting and if he truly had seen a "pack" of the Lobisomem, since her experience and research had pointed only to the solitary wolf. Allison was eager to share it all with Tom, but had decided to wait until she had some kind of confirmation that there still was a pack in existence. Maybe, eventually they could travel to meet their fellow wolves.

Allison smiled at the thought of them taking a real holiday together someday, and leaned into Tom. Most evenings it had become their routine to snuggle on the sofa while studying. Unlike most evenings, however, tonight was the rare occurrence of having the house entirely to themselves. Tom was taking full advantage of the fact by massaging her shoulders whilst pressing himself suggestively into her backside, which proved to be quite the distraction. She set aside her _Foundations of Legal Knowledge_ coursework on the cushion, giving Tom her full attention. She enjoyed his polite ministrations for a brief moment before turning to catch him in a surprise kiss. His beautiful eyes still sought approval before he would touch her more brazenly. She kissed him again, fully this time and he finally caved.

They were involved in quite the enthusiastic snog session, her hands on the button and zip of Tom's trousers and his completely underneath her jumper, when steps on the front walk froze them both. In a fluster they righted themselves. Allison pressed herself against Tom's lap once more to hide certain excitements, retrieved her book, and tried to to appear composed. The door opened and Alex entered, followed by Hal. He paused to drop his keys into the dish at the bar with a clatter.

"Heya guys," Alex greeted, perching on a barstool. Hal leaned against the bar beside her.

Tom pointedly looked between the both of them, and then at the shiny gold clock on the wall. "Why you home so late?" It wasn't normal for them to miss supper without a note. Hal glanced at the floor before meeting his eyes, and Tom caught something in his friend's demeanor that made him sit up a little straighter. "What happened then? Waz wrong?"

Alex could sense Hal's reluctance. They hadn't really thought about what they would tell their friends. Rook hadn't said not to, but he also hadn't included them in his plans. "The Regulatory Office is already calling in their favour," Hal started. "Rook has asked me to do something for him."

"Is it something to do with that vampire t'was here?" Tom asked, ever astute.

"If only it were that simple," Hal sighed, and then he told them all of it. From Richard Turner's business card, to Rook knowing about the visit, which confirmed his presence.

Through the recounting of the bombings and the mission they were tasked with, Allison had a thoughtful but distant look as she swiftly dredged through it all. This confirmed what she had already been investigating! However, she was quite surprised to learn of such systematic destruction from a supposed invisible pack. She was about to enquire if Rook had mentioned anything further about the bombing in Brazil, but noticed a shift in Tom. His face had fallen from concerned puzzlement into a scowl, his brows knitted together sharply. He had remained leaning into the corner of the sofa with her while they listened but at Hal's conclusion, he shook his head and looked away. When he looked back, he was visibly angry.

"You owned dogfight rings," Tom stated sullenly, before lifting his chin to Hal. "Were you ever goin'ta actually tell me? And all those threats from the chair? You really could have..."

"You know that's not me. Not now," Hal rebutted calmly. "And, I don't anymore. Not personally anyway."

"Why didn't you _say_?" Tom stood up, startling Allison. He shook his head as he tried to suppress a rapidly growing rage, his fists clenching at his sides.

"It was in the past, Tom. I didn't think you wanted to know the details."

"Yeah, but **dogfights** Hal?!" Tom full on shouted.

"What does it matter now? They're getting blown up! Which, I would have thought was a favour!" Hal raised his voice in frustration and then stopped. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Tom had every right to be angry.

Tom had gone very quiet as he watched Hal compose himself. Both Allison and Alex were eerily silent as well, sensing that the strain of tight tension between the two friends was enough to slit a throat on.

When Tom spoke again, his quiet words were almost more threatening. "McNair was turned in a dogfight," he stated simply. Hal met Tom's eyes with dread filling his stomach. Tom looked at him plainly and continued, "Yeh. One of the rare humans that lived to walk away. But not unscratched."

"I'm sorry Tom. I didn't know," Hal stated, feeling the weakness of his apology. He understood the breadth of Tom's anger now. If Hal was responsible for the dogfights, then in turn he was responsible for McNair, even if indirectly. Which meant indirectly, Hal was _also_ responsible for Tom. Like ripples on a lake, the transgressions of his past continued outward far beyond the original impact of his deeds. How could he ever make this right? _He couldn't._

Hal struggled to at least explain, "I didn't mean to keep it from you. It just... was no longer relevant to my life. I walked away from that - from all of it. I staged my own death to help Leo escape, but it was my escape as well. We managed to get away and then I was free of it. I thought they would shut down after my disappearance. For a while, they did. I'm sorry Tom."

Tom looked at Hal a long time, his expressive eyebrows mashed together. When he finally spoke his tone was softer than his words. "Sorry don't make it right." Tom brushed past him, grabbed his coat and was out the door before any of them could stop him.

Hal watched through the window as Tom took off running up the street. Watched as Allison leapt after him, shouting his name in her striped stockings from their steps. Tom kept running.

* * *

He ran until he didn't recognize where he was. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs screaming in protest drowned out everything else. It felt wicked good.

More and more, Tom felt like a little paper boat getting battered by a storm. One thing after another and his direction no longer clear. He was spinning against things he couldn't control. Hal's revelation shouldn't have bothered him so much, but it did. How could he have kept such a monumental thing concealed? _Weren't they friends?_ Tom felt betrayed more than anything. How could he have been so blind?

Hal had told him, in small ways he supposed. Tom knew that he had freed Leo from a dogfight. Which meant Hal had to have been in a position to get close to the fight victims in the first place. And in London, when he and Allison were held captive - Hal knew right where they were. He owned a storage bay on the very same street!

More than anything, Tom felt foolish. _Stupid_. Which he was feeling a lot of these days. He wasn't cut out for book learning. Allison tried to help, and she _did_ help, even with her already full-time course load. She was the one part of his life that Tom wasn't confused about. He loved her more than anything. But Tom still felt drastically overwhelmed with just how much he didn't know. Basic, simple stuff everyone learns as kids continually hid revelations for him. His learning leaned towards survival - not spelling and grammar. He wasn't stupid, just woefully unprepared. But even knowing that didn't make sitting in class any easier.

Tom had made it all the way down to the warehouses past the docks. The lights had gotten further apart, and hardly any traffic interrupted his run. Due to the circling thoughts he had been lost in, it took him a moment to recognize the subtle echo of his footfalls as not _actually_ an echo.

Matching his stride step for step, Tom was being followed.

* * *

Hal was reading _Ulysses_. At least, he was trying to. Joyce's dry words did nothing to break past the stormy thoughts of guilt and worry over his friend. It had been hours and Tom had not returned. Eventually, Allison changed her mind about waiting for Tom to 'run it off and come back', had donned her shoes and shoulder bag, and driven out to look for him. Alex was obviously torn about leaving Hal, but he had encouraged her to go. She could rent-a-ghost and check places Allison couldn't from the car. It went unspoken that Hal should remain.

He heard them come in downstairs, Allison's voice was weary and Alex's response too soft to make out. Tom was not with them. Hal gave up the pretense of the book, set it down beside him, and was rubbing his temples when Alex appeared.

"You alright?" she asked.

The question startled him in its absurdity. He met her eyes and answered her with an unrestrained, sharp barb of self-loathing, "I'm a dogfighting mass murderer who ruined my best friend's life before he was even born. Why should I be alright?"

Alex swallowed, hesitated briefly, then came to sit beside him on the sofa anyways. "It wasn't your fault," she put her hand over his. "You were in Southend. You had nothing to do with -"

"I turned a blind eye on all of it. I had my little world and that was all I cared about. I should have put an end to it."

"Could you have? Really though?"

Hal was silent. When he spoke again it was with remorse. "Richard never had the political clout to change anything. Besides, he wouldn't have wanted to. Richard has always been a servant to his own personal gain, and the fights were big business."

"So really, the fact that they kept going could be pinned on Richard."

"I didn't tell him not to."

She turned over his hand, linked her fingers through his. "You don't want Rook to stop the bombings, do you..."

Hal huffed with admission, "No. I applaud them, whomever they are. It's about time the Werewolf Army reformed. If it weren't for the potential exposure they will bring."

"Wait - the what? There was a werewolf _army_?"

"A long time ago, open space was more plentiful and their numbers were greater. Packs were common. We -" Hal caught himself, "the vampires hunted them down. Snow's rule was ruthless. The fights grew out of that, and the Army grew out of the war between us."

"Jaysus. Does Tom know about all that?"

"I don't think he and McNair ever found much of a pack until George and Nina, and they hardly count. The more their numbers dwindled, the more werewolf history was erased. Most live quietly solo these days, like Leo did."

Alex was stunned into silence, but she didn't let go of Hal's hand. Her pulse between them was a present steadiness. He closed his eyes, leaning his head on the back of the sofa. The lamplight made the dark shadows that smudged under his eyes all the more pronounced.

"You need to sleep," she said gently. It all was a lot to process, and she could ask him questions all night. But her care for him outweighed her curiosity. He didn't answer her so she stood, tugging at him to follow her. Hal tilted his head wearily against the sofa and looked up at her. "Come on," she prodded. With a reluctant sigh, he stood and let her lead him across the room.

The tasks of unbuttoning his shirt, hanging it up and removing his vest were all rote. Hal's thoughts had wandered into a region of the distant past he usually tried to avoid, and he doubted sleep would find him. He didn't even note when Alex had slipped free of her jacket and dress. Facing him with her black camisole and leggings hugging her curves, she put a hand against the bare skin of his chest, imploring his attention. "Hey. Thomas will be okay," she said consolingly. "It was probably the shock more than anything..." Hal didn't respond while he unhooked the clasp of his trousers and stepped clear. He folded them and turned away from her touch to set them aside. Alex pulled back the covers. She scooted in to lay on her side, watching as he sat and removed his watch. "He's smart, but doesn't always put two and two together you know? He wants to believe the best in people. It's amazing really, given his life."

"I know," Hal acknowledged, as if it were given. He joined Alex under the blankets, facing her. "I didn't tell him because I didn't think I'd have to. It was unnecessary to hurt him."

Alex turned out the light with a ghostly push, plunging the room into a soft darkness. She hooked an arm over Hal's waist to draw him close, the contact pleasant despite the conversation. "I'm sleeping with a dogfighting mass murderer. Anything else that _I_ should know?" She meant it as a lighthearted joke, but he answered her seriously.

"Why would you want to? Annie didn't."

"I'm not Annie. And, she wasn't sleeping with you, far as I could tell."

"Actually... there is something I've been meaning to tell you..." Hal's tone remained serious despite her jesting and for a second Alex wondered if she were wrong about Annie. Hal was wicked fit and Annie had been gorgeous. She had only seen them together briefly but they hadn't _seemed_ more than friends… She dismissed the thought. After just how long it took him to even be comfortable with her touch... The next thing Hal said broke her thoughts. "I mentioned I wanted to make something of myself when I left home..."

With a sudden realization dawning, Alex stated, "You weren't ever really a Lord, were ye?"

Hal snorted a small laugh, her question surprising him, "No. God, no." He breathed a heavy sigh, his mirth short-lived. "Although, I _am_ convinced that the chance was the only reason I lived at all."

Alex propped herself up, head in hand. One of the rare times he was opening up to her... His eyes tipped sideways to meet hers and she raised an eyebrow, questioning what he meant.

"I was an unwanted burden in an age when such children did not last... When my monetary usefulness proved false, the supposed sire refusing to claim me - and rightly so... Well, by then they all must have grown fond. The jest stuck."

"They?"

"My mothers. All.. six..." Hal paused, gauging her reaction. Alex merely raised a curious eyebrow so Hal sighed and forged ahead. "I apologize Alex, I truly haven't been certain how to tell you this. It isn't something..." Hal stopped, turned his face away and continued without looking at her. "I was... born in a brothel. And, was..." he paused, searching for the right word, "reared there until all were lost."

She looked at him blankly for a flurry of heartbeats. Hal prepared himself for her anger or disgust as he returned her gaze. Instead, Alex _chuffed_. "Should that bug me?" She laughed out loud as his face fell. He looked positively aghast at the amusement quaking from her. "Hal, your parentage is the _least_ of the fucked up shit about your past!"

Hal was not amused in the slightest. He started to pull away, sitting up. Alex sobered and caught his arm, stopping him from leaving the bed. He gave her an angry look and she fumbled to explain, "Hey - I'm sorry. I'm sure there wasn't anything funny about it. Just - you're so bloody _posh_ , it caught me by surprise." Hal's expression did not change, but he didn't leave. "You being some Lord from back in the day was an easy assumption to believe. But - I can't ever assume anything with you, can I?" She smiled, trying to put him at ease, "I'm curious though. About all of it. About who you were..."

"I was no one," his voice softened. The admission was also a dismissal.

With a gentle pull on his arm, she coaxed him close. "No," she kissed his shoulder. "Maybe it was shite, but you were still someone." Alex slid her hand from his arm to wrap around his chest, holding him to her. "For a brief and formative time, you were human. _Really_ human. And... I can only imagine what a childhood like that must have been like. But you weren't no one. You could never be no one."

Hal pulled away her grasp, turning his head to face her over his shoulder. At his dubious stare Alex tilted her head with a quirky smile. "Besides. I'm glad you weren't _really_ a Lord. You're pompous enough without it," she smirked before catching him with a kiss, much to his shock.

He didn't return her advance, so she paused, searching his eyes. He was regarding her in the most peculiar fashion, as if he couldn't believe she were real. She was about to say some other quip to goad away his mood, but he shifted to face her fully and cupped her cheek. Hal's light and delicate touch contrasted with the intensity of his gaze. When he kissed her it was present and immediate. Alex felt such a surge of passion and hope that she nearly melted. He was here, with her wholly. He was kissing her with not just the perfection of a practiced lover, but with more of himself than he usually allowed.

She was no stranger to seduction. In the last few weeks they had parried it back and forth like a tennis match. She loved the challenge of him. Hal would try to turn his iron will into resisting her, but Alex was an accomplished player with plenty of practice wielding her charms.

The year after her mother's death she had been shattered, and sought any small connection and comfort she could. Those comforts usually involved loud music, liquor and lads. Night after night she would leave the house the second she could, after her littlest brothers were in bed. She didn't yet know her eldest brother was going through the same, but much worse. Coming home to find him half dead was a serious wake-up, calling out her own self-destructive tendencies. She stopped messing around. She got her brother into rehab and then met a nice, solid lad. His friendship had saved her. His flair for fun had helped heal her heart. His flightiness broke it all over again.

With Hal, who had at first seemed like such an easy, gentle thing, she had been trying to recover. She would have had her holiday fling with this incredibly fit bloke from Barry, and then moved on. And now, she could never move on. The irony wasn't lost.

Hal's slender fingers were slipping past her camisole and Alex broke their kiss. She hated herself for even having to say it, "This isn't going to help you sleep."

"Oh I beg to differ," he lifted the thin black material past her head. At the exquisite meeting of his skin against hers, she was done for. He had her, fully.

When they came together it was to a simultaneous sigh, breathy and wanting. Unlike the afternoon, this was languishing and delicate. She was lost in the contours of his face and the strong ridges and lines of his chest. In every movement his body was a song to her. Every touch, every sigh tuned together in perfect pitch. At the end he kept his word, sinking into a softening sleep. Letting go with a slow slip into blessed nothing, Alex joined him willingly.


	8. Despite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.  
>  Beta _assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._ Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates._
> 
> _*Reader note: Since this story was begun before series 5 aired, I wrote/designed Tom & Hal's new place of employment as "a big new resort with a seaview and everything!" In Walking with a Ghost, the kitchen, staff room and housekeeping office were all described as being downstairs. _
> 
> * * *

It was more vivid than other dreams, the first time it happened. Alex recognized where she was immediately. She had been there on numerous school trips, and later as a teenager to party and snog at the abandoned railway station hidden below.

But she had never been to the Botanical Gardens for a party quite like this. A string quartet was playing a lively piece and the whole interior of the glass palace was lit with sparkling candelabras and glowing gas lamp lights. The crowd consisted of well-dressed men in stuffy crisp suits and women in gowns and silken gloves. It was oppressively warm she realized. She looked to the door for a way out and noticed an attractive blonde woman standing near it, dangling an empty champagne glass from a gloved hand. She was wearing a smooth satin dress the palest colour of soft churned yellow. It complemented her milky skin tone and clung to the curves of her hips. The woman caught her eye, smiling with warm recognition. Setting aside her glass with a wary glance at the crowd nearby, she raised her eyebrow suggestively before ducking outside. Without a thought as to why this woman seemed to know her, Alex followed. _Heather_ , some strange inner part of her recognized.

Beyond the glass walls of the conservatory, the air was blessedly clear and cool. Alex took a long lungful and felt refreshed.

Heather was walking a slow sway around the edge of the curving structure, just ahead. The pale satin of her dress glowed brightly, a beacon in the dark. She had lifted up her long skirts so the hem didn't catch the dew, exposing strong calves over delicate ankles and fine shoes. They met on the far side of the arching glass, the voices from inside spilling out and the light striking a path across the finely manicured lawn behind them.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? Gordon doesn't appreciate these things," the woman whispered wistfully, finally acknowledging her follower as she leaned against the iron edge of the glass structure.

Alex didn't say anything in response, just noted a northern Scots accent, and followed a compulsion to step closer.

Heather appeared a little tipsy, a few ringlets of her fair hair escaping the the dainty silver pins holding it up. "You're quiet tonight," she teased. "No poetics? Say something eloquent."

 _God, was this woman flirting with her?_ This dream sure was odd...

"That, m'lady is due to my present company having stolen my breath," Alex _heard/felt_ herself answering. She stepped closer to Heather as she spoke, who smiled at the compliment. With a glance at the party inside, the elegant woman ducked into the shadows, dousing the brightness of her dress and extending her hand, beckoning. As soon as she stepped close, the blonde took Alex by the collar and kissed her with scandalous passion. Intuitively, nearly out of some habit, Alex's arms encircled the woman. Her dress was seductively smooth, the warmth of her slim waist flowing down to soft curves. The touch was inciting a pulsing desire deep within, radiating in a salacious shiver from her groin and clear up her neck.

Heather had groaned into the kiss and pulled their bodies closer, which only inflamed the intense _want/need/lust/hunger_ that was washing over her. Alex broke the kiss, moved a hand to cup the soft, warm skin of the woman's jawbone.

 _WhatthefuckamIdoing?_ But Heather coaxed them all the way together, her slender pelvis grinding against her own. Alex couldn't resist kissing the throat arching before her, just over the beckoning pulse. She could _hear/smell/feel_ it and _GOD_! _The want for this woman had gone on long enough._

A building ache thrummed through her skull, its pressure rising against her teeth. Alex felt the force push through, felt her fangs drop. Her lover seemed to sense the shift, her instincts reacting to something amiss. Her heaving chest hitched; _the prelude to a scream_. As easy as anything, effortless as breath, she silenced the woman with a forceful hand that slid from her jaw, to smother her mouth. It was such sweet release when fangs pierced flesh.

Sweeter than wine, purer than water, arterial blood pumped free.

* * *

Alex tore awake with a pounding start. Her heart was stamping staccato in her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth, poking at her incisors with thumb and forefinger. Her teeth were normal, thank the stars. _No fangs_. She wasn't turning into a vampire. It was just a nightmare. Only a nightmare. _A really randy and realistic nightmare_. Jesus.

Her breath had calmed before she realized that next to her, Hal was still. She had _always_ woken as he did. But Hal was still deeply asleep, lying on his back and lost in dreaming. The subtle flutter of his eyelids were a confirmation. A thin icicle of horror settled into the pit of her belly and took root. She watched him for a long time.

She wondered if she were mistaken. Maybe he wasn't dreaming the same thing at all? Maybe her dream was just a by-product of their experiment yesterday. She had "tasted" from him more than mere taste. She had sipped at his subconscious...

It was near morning, grey light creeping through the blinds. Alex sank into her thoughts. All that had happened, all that had been revealed. The channel that she had opened between them. She wanted to ask Hal what he had been dreaming to confirm her suspicions, but knew it was a touchy subject for him. The most he had ever spoken about his nightmares was just that they were terrible.

As dawn slowly filtered into the room, the dream seemed like such a small thing within the context of everything else going on. Maybe it really was only a nightmare. With her death, and everything that had come after, she had certainly been exposed to plenty to have nightmares over. Maybe it wouldn't happen again.

Hal turned in his sleep, startling her as his arm automatically folded over her waist. She felt his chest rise and fall as he came awake and wondered at the power of habit. Of instinct. He didn't need to breathe in sleep, yet the unconscious action was there. Since she wasn't coming awake with him, Alex enjoyed the way the blankets had slipped from his shoulder. Even at rest, the sculpted form of his muscles drew her eye down the contour of his bicep and further, to where the blankets rested at his waist. When she returned her gaze to his face, she was startled to find his hazel gaze fixed on her. "You're staring," he muttered. She couldn't help but smile, ruffling his unkempt hair. She loved him in the mornings. He was just a touch more flippant.

"Mornin'," she chimed and pulled him closer, till every bit of them was pressed together. "Tis a grand day for travel, don't ya think?" She said, maybe a little too brightly, for he scowled. She kissed his shoulder with exaggerated warmth. Despite the dream, staring at him all morn had made her want him again. That repeatable pull; her addiction. She smiled teasingly, stroked his side slowly pulling the sheet down to expose his hip. He merely sighed and tugged at the covers.

Despite all they faced that day, Hal managed a slow smile as he met her familiar mischievous grin. He still couldn't fathom that he continued to awaken with her by his side. After decades of sleeping alone, he kept thinking that one day her presence would grate on him. But thus far, it had not. She had a way of instantly pulling him out of himself, of shifting his brooding attention to other things. Which she was doing at that precise moment...

Alex writhed against him, lightly kissing his neck. "So you'll be calling in, right? We've got plenty of time..." she hinted.

"No, we do not," he disagreed, even against the part of him that dearly wanted to blow off everything and fuck her senseless. _And drink her dry, of course._ Which was precisely why they must _not_. He kissed her, but pinned her arm to keep her from further movement. "The car is at the hotel, remember?" He reasoned. "And I'd like to have a few things taken care of before departing."

"Mmmm," Alex returned his kiss poutily. "That's really too bad," and she started to tease him, demonstrating what he was missing out on with his audacity to go to work. It was a game they had played before. They had the house to themselves for only a brief time in the mornings. Tom's shift at the hotel started earlier than Hal's, and Allison often left with him. Hal was beginning to fall into susceptibility when there was a hard and decisive knock at the door. They both froze, wide-eyed and smiling at each other like guilty teenagers.

"Alex? Hal? I need to talk to you. Tom never came home." Pinched with worry, the normally verbose girl revealed the extent of her concern with the brevity of her statement.

Alex watched Hal's smile fall, his guilt crashing down around them. "We'll be right down," he answered promptly, already sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair as he pulled away from her.

No time for pressups, nor dominos. Not when Tom could be in trouble. Hal had thoroughly expected his young friend to have come home _eventually_ last night. Tom was too smitten with Allison to have stayed out, despite his anger. Or so he had thought. Hal dressed quickly, even knowing that he needed to bathe. Alex teleported out of his bed into her attire, waiting until he was ready before going downstairs.

Allison was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, looking miserable. She had left a pair of mugs next to the teapot, even though this wasn't their usual time for breakfast. Her unruly curls were even more frizzed than usual and dark shadows hollowed under puffy eyes. She barely looked up when Hal and Alex pulled out chairs to join her at the table.

"He hasn't called or messaged?" Hal asked as he poured a mug of tea for Alex, knowing she enjoyed it despite being unable drink, then another for himself. Allison shook her head in response, her glasses slipping. She pushed them back up with weariness and looked up to meet his eyes.

"I don't imagine he's called you, has he?" The hope in her voice betrayed reason.

"No," Hal replied, letting the unspoken tension over their argument remain unsaid.

"Has he done something like this before?" Alex asked both of them.

Allison shook her head but looked to Hal. "I was hoping to ask you the same thing."

"Once before, because of Kirby. He was angry with me then too, actually" Hal reflected. Allison sat up a little straighter, her eagerness at the possibility that this was a recognizable pattern evident. Hal hated to disappoint her. "Tom returned that same evening however. Where did you search last night?"

Alex looked to Allison before answering, "First, the bars cuz if I was that hacked that's where'd I'd go… but no Tom. Then we swung down along the wharf where he likes to go running."

"What about work? He could have gone there to cool off." Hal offered, but Allison shook her head.

"We looked there too," her voice cracked a bit, as if she was trying to keep from crying. Then she voiced the question Hal suspected had kept her up half the night, "Richard Turner wouldn't want anything with him, would he?"

"I'm confident Richard went back to London, so I'm doubtful it could be that," Hal tried to reassure Allison. "Besides, Tom can hold his own against my kind. It is highly improbable that he has been abducted."

"But still, this isn't like him," Alex confirmed.

"No, it is not. Did you check the police station?"

Allison furrowed her brow, the idea obviously at odds with her picture of Tom, "No… but I can stop by on my way to class I guess. You really think he could have been _arrested_?"

"We don't know, so it is best to cover all probabilities, despite how far-fetched," Hal kept his voice as soothing as possible.

"And I hate to even suggest this, but I can pop over and check through the hospital," Alex offered.

Allison balked at the thought, but then nodded at the ghost reluctantly, "Thanks Alex." She finished her tea hastily and stood, pulling her shoulder bag off the back of her chair with a button-clicking clatter. Sudden urgency wouldn't change matters, but Allison appeared strengthened by having a plan, however weak. "I better head out then. Sorry to uh, wake you,"

Hal stood as well, "No, I'm glad you told us."

Allison paused in the doorway, "Will you be running Rook's errand today?" Referring to it as Rook's errand was easier than asking if they were beaming themselves all the way up to the Hebrides and back.

Hal shook his head, "Not if Tom is missing. I'll check with them though. Maybe they've seen him? Rook seems to usually know where we're all at," Hal stated it irritably, but also knew that it would reassure Allison.

"Yeah, I wondered about that," she answered, seemingly a little encouraged. "Keep me posted, will you?"

Hal nodded, "We will. And likewise."

Alex rent-a-ghosted her teacup, along with Allison's, into the sink, then folded her arms over her chest. "Shite," she stated grimly to the kitchen in general.

Awkwardly, Hal started towards the washing-up, but stopped himself. More than anything he recognized that he should return to his usual morning routine for steadiness. "I need to -"

"Go do your thing. I'll hit the hospital right now."

Hal looked away, but nodded. "Thanks," he sighed.

Alex could see his guilt weighing down his shoulders. She stood and reached for his hands, catching him before he could leave. "Hey, this isn't your fault. I'm sure Tom's okay. He has to be." Hal neither agreed nor disagreed. She held his gaze a long time. "You can't carry this," she said, wishing she sounded convincing. Eventually, she let him go.

"I'll come get you if... I need to." Alex couldn't bring herself to say it. Hal nodded without saying anything further, and left to return upstairs.

* * *

The A&E was blessedly quiet at this early hour of morning, but Alex checked through each partition anyways. None of the cordoned off spaces revealed a battered Tom. There was a cluster of hospital staff watching the news in the waiting room and eating pastries. _God, what she wouldn't do for a shortbread!_ She thought about trying to taste from one of them, but then the images on the television caught her eye. Rook hadn't exaggerated about the coverage.

On the screen was the bomb site in London with it's skewed railroad tie viewed from a helicopter as it circled the decimated Shand Street archway. She could even make out Richard's office building with it's crisp white stonework. The footage flashed to a news anchor interviewing a police officer, "That's right. We have confirmed that what was believed to be an explosion triggered by a gas leak, was actually an intentional detonation." Alex wondered if they had arrested Richard yet. Apparently the anchorman wondered the very same thing. "Do you have a lead on any suspects?" The officer answered with the usual police-speak for _we-haven't-the- faintest_ , "Interpol and Special Branch are collaborating to follow several leads at the moment. I would encourage viewers with any information to call -"

Alex continued her search, looking for signs to Intensive Care. The news couldn't tell her anything she didn't already know. This corridor was a bit more active; a pair of nurses wheeling IVs, a doctor in a lab coat holding a clipboard. Typical. Alex walked the corridor, peering into each room for her friend. She had run out of rooms to look into when somewhere, a beeping alarm went off and the doctor she had passed sprinted along with another nurse to a room across the hall. Curious, Alex wandered over to watch from the doorway.

The room was one she had quickly dismissed for the occupant was far too small to belong to her friend. Instead, it was a little boy not much older than her Will. Eyes closed, his face was slack with an unnatural pallor. The nurse immediately checked the child's pulse and airway, then began performing CPR. The doctor pulled a defibrillator from the wall and Alex felt her heart breaking. Almost like a sense of fate, she could _feel_ that it was too late before the doctor could even begin. She watched the hazy form of the child's ghost appear at the foot of his bed. He was watching the flurry of work over his body with a detached sort of curiosity. Alex flattened herself in the doorway to allow another nurse wheeling a tray to pass through. The boy looked in her direction and cocked his head at her curiously, like he wanted to ask her something, but was forced to turn away. The hospital staff all kept working, trying to revive the boy even though his Door had appeared. It was a cheery yellow thing, with a doodled-on chalkboard adhered to it, the picture a rocketship shot through with stars. Alex wondered if it had been his bedroom door at home.

A light brighter than sunshine, brighter than anything, filled the room when the child turned the handle. Alex was fascinated. This was her first time witnessing a Door from this side, as a ghost. Even though it was almost too bright to look at, Alex watched as the door swung all the way open and the little boy stepped through, swallowed by the light.

But the opening didn't shut. Immediately, another figure, much taller, darkened the passage. A sharp silhouette with tattered clothes, carrying a tall stick with a coiled rope. Alex froze, her stomach somersaulting into her sternum.

Filling the threshold of the doorway, the figure looked directly at her. Slowly, using the hand not carrying his weapon, he tapped his chest, then, lifted his hand up to point at one milk-white eye. In morbid pageantry, he extended his arm _through_ the doorway to point at her. And then he _grinned_.

A profound terror ripped through her like he had shot her with it. When someone tapped her shoulder, Alex shrieked and about jumped out of her skin. Finally unfrozen, she wheeled around defensively - _they weren't gonna take her without a fight goddamnit!_ \- and came face to face with a stocky elderly woman.

The Door slammed shut, its blinding light no longer illuminating the old woman's face. She smiled at Alex sympathetically, laugh lines cracking across her weathered skin as she patted her shoulder. "There now dear. Those nasty buggers can't come through. No need to be frightened."

Alex caught her breath. She looked the woman up and down and just like she could _feel_ that it was that boy's time, she could _feel_ that this person was a ghost. "You're like me," Alex stated then realized how silly that sounded.

"No, not at all dear!"

"Oh... you're … uh... not.. um..." Alex stuttered, wondering if she had gotten it wrong.

"Oh no, I've been dead a long time! But I'm nothing like you. You've got a _spark_ in you." The woman smiled then indicated with a jerk of her head that they should step aside. The doctor with the clipboard was coming though, leaving the nurses inside to deal with the little boy's body.

"Maggie," the ghost offered, extending her hand. Alex shook it politely and the woman's grip tightened, her eyes narrowing. "Thought so. Who you feeding off of girlie? Obviously not that little boy."

Alex pulled free, a little more violently than necessary. She was clearly stronger than the other ghost who rubbed her hand, looking hurt.

"I'm not -" Alex started but the woman stomped close to her, threateningly.

"We don't take your kind here. Get out."

"But I'm just looking for my friend. I'm not here to -"

"GET OUT!"

Alex appeared in front of the "home" sign at Honolulu Heights. It was instinctual, she didn't even think it through, just rent-a-ghosted out of there. The nerve of that old biddy! What the bloody hell... The woman obviously thought she was someone or something else. But then Alex remembered the Door and that grin. _I see you..._ Alex shivered.

"You didn't find him, did you?"

Alex jumped for the second time that morning. "Uh, no," she answered shakily.

Hal was already dressed for work and clean shaven, but still looked fatigued. _Who you feeding off of, girlie?_ Alex shuddered and noticed that Hal was peering at her with concern, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think. There's a weird ghost hanging round the Intensive," Alex stated. She elected not to mention the man she saw in the doorway. She didn't want to worry him.

"Some do that sometimes. Usually when they're fed up and looking for Doors. It doesn't work that way, but some still try."

Maggie didn't seem like she was looking for a Door. More like guarding it. But Alex didn't say anything. Instead, she just asked, "Are you walking?"

Alex was glad for the company and the walk, even though they didn't say much. Hal was obviously worried over Tom and lost in thought. She followed him into the lobby where Megan immediately smiled from the front desk, "Mornin' Hal!"

Hal gave a small nod and continued to head towards his office. But then he paused, "Say - you haven't seen Tom, have you?"

"McNair? Aye. He's downstairs, where else?"

"What?" Alex scoffed. Hal didn't bother hiding his surprise, nor did he respond to Megan with anything more as he passed for the stairs.

In the kitchen, Sophie was loading a pan of biscuits into the oven. Tom was nowhere to be seen. Hal shook his head. He really shouldn't have bothered asking the girl.

"Right - that be the apples then?" Tom's voice rang out from the cooler. By the time he emerged carrying a tub of diced and spiced pie filling, Hal had worked up a fairly impressive scowl.

"Where have you been?" Hal demanded. Sophie looked up, but Tom looked away.

"Thomas - Allison was worried sick o'er you!" Alex practically shouted. "Not to mention I just got accosted by a ghost at the hospital while I made sure _you weren't there_!"

Tom set down the apples and Sophie looked between the two friends awkwardly. Hal sighed, "Look, you have every right to be angry with me. That's fine. But at least call Allison."

"I did," Tom replied, averting his eyes from Hal's scowl. "Had to wait till I got here this mornin' on account of leaving m'phone in m'bag at home."

"So you've spoken to her?" Tom still wasn't meeting Hal's eyes, but he nodded. "Fine," Hal said abruptly, ending the conversation between them. Tom squared his jaw, then opened the apple tray with excessive force. With barely a glance to Alex, Hal stormed away to the housekeeping office.

"You alright Tom?" Alex asked, before remembering that Tom couldn't answer her in front of Sophie. "If you want to talk, just let me know." Tom had turned away, reaching for one of many doughy piles. He kneaded the dough into quick submission, then started scooping the apple filling into it. "Look he's... Hal didn't want to hurt you, alright?" Tom didn't give any indication of a reply.

Reluctantly, Alex left Tom to his work. Sophie looked quite uncomfortable at the tiff she had witnessed and Alex didn't want to risk making her even more so by provoking Tom enough to speak to an invisible person. With a quick rent-a-ghost tug, Alex appeared on the other side of the door to Hal's office. He had sunk into his chair and was clicking through something on the computer with complete disinterest.

She expected him to be broody and silent. She just wanted to make sure he was alright. But without looking up he asked, "Do you still want to do this?"

"What? Give Tom a swift talking to? " Alex understood Tom was angry, but it was still quite surprising that he had stayed out all night and made Allison worry.

"No. Grimsay," Hal sounded like he was forcing himself to even address it. "I have a few things to finish up this morning. Edwards will be less inclined to notice I've left early if everything is done. We're scheduled off tomorrow anyways."

Alex sighed. She sensed Rook's request wasn't the only thing driving Hal's motivation to disappear for a little while, but she didn't confront him on it. Instead, she answered him cheekily, "Sure, Game On. Maybe all this time I just needed to see a Hebridean sunset to make my life complete." Hal made a pained face at her so she softened. "I don't want to see this coming back to you or Tom. If we can help Rook's department catch these guys, then yeah."

Hal nodded his acceptance. "I will need to call him. To arrange the car, if he can."

"You've got a place?"

"I know of a spot," he was resigned, sounding almost sad with the memory. "Out on a inlet past a bluff, away from the main settlements. There is still a risk someone could see us, but I believe the island remains less populated on weekdays."

"And what about getting to Harris? Will Rook rent us a boat?"

"There's a ferry," he said, gesturing to the screen. "I did a Google."


	9. Resignation and Uncomfortable Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._
> 
>  
> 
> _Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal. Extra work on this one deserves an extra special shout out. Thanks guys._
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates. This chapter is brought to you by Amy whose review was the nudge I needed to forge on ahead.
> 
> * * *

To prepare for a long distance, cross-kingdom jump, one normally should meditate. Or pack a bag. If long distance, cross-kingdom jumps were normal, that is. Hal Yorke, on the other hand, was quite loudly putting away the dishes. And sorting the recycling.

"Is this really necessary?" Alex asked while leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. She crossed her arms over her chest in amusement as she watched Hal rummage around in the pantry. He didn't answer her so Alex prodded again, "We'll be back tonight. Unless we miss that ferry."

"We are not going to miss the ferry," he retorted, stacking the pots.

"It's not like you won't be able to do any of this tomorrow." Alex was eager to get going. Regardless of the circumstances, she was looking forward to the adventure of traveling somewhere new.

"On the off chance that we don't return, I will at least know it's sorted."

"Yeah, for like five minutes until Tom cooks again. Why wouldn't you make it back? I'm not going to splinch you. Promise," she smirked sweetly.

Hal paused in his analysis of their recycling bin. "On the off chance I'm staked, I'll die happier alright?"

"Why the bloody hell would you be staked? Is this Carl fellow one of your old friends like Cutler was one of your friends? Cuz _that_ man was like, Dr. Evil-style bonkers."

"No, Carl was... _is_ one of the good ones. He was kind. I just wasn't so kind the last time we spoke."

"Enough that he may _stake_ you on sight? Why didn't you tell Rook?"

"Hope springs eternal," Hal muttered the quote to himself, then answered her seriously. "I doubt Rook would have cared." With one last glance around the kitchen, Hal approved that everything was in order. Pausing at the refrigerator, he slipped a note with the address Rook had given them from his pocket and pinned it under a magnetic domino. He passed Alex and proceeded to the reception phone. Even though he knew she was in class, he dialed Allison's number. It rang a few times, then transferred to her voicemail.

"Allison, I trust Tom reached you from work. He appeared to be fine..." Hal let that trail, then cut to the point of his call. "I wanted to inform you that Alex & I will be traveling on Rook's errand after all. Do not be alarmed if you do not see us this evening. The address of our destination is on the refrigerator, in the event that you have need of it." Hal cradled the receiver, mentally checked that task off his list, and proceeded upstairs.

"What, that's it? Nothing for Tom?" Alex followed him up the stairs.

"Tom is aware of where we are going. That was merely a courtesy." Upon reaching his room, Hal opened his wardrobe and retrieved a change of clothing. Grey trousers, a clean shirt and a dark jumper; simple clothes. Appearing on the Isle of Grimsay in his work attire would attract far too much attention.

Alex watched him change with her arms folded over her chest. After pulling on his sturdy boots, he stood, looked around the room and finally became still. Everything was in its place. "That it then? You certain you don't need to weed the front garden first?" Alex jibed.

Hal cocked his head, "I hadn't considered that." Alex's face fell and he smiled, giving away his sarcasm which Alex scowled at. He asked, "Think it will work just as before?"

"Yeah, I guess. You want to meditate first or something?" She couldn't help her concern. If this worked, they would be traveling over seven hundred miles; further than Alex had ever attempted.

"No need. I remember it clearly."

Alex unfurled her arms and stepped away from the mantle she had been leaning on. She took a hesitant step towards Hal and tried to quiet the flutter of nerves that rose up with an echo of memory; _pale satin in the darkness, teeth piercing through yielding flesh to flood her mouth with blood_. Alex shoved the fleeting imagery away. If it happened again, after they got through this, then she would mention it. Hal was trying to appear relaxed, his hands casual and loose at his sides. But Alex could sense his resignation, same as her own.

As before, she looped her arms over his shoulders and reached into his hair. He did the same, looking into her eyes with a mixture of trepidation and trust. Their foreheads rested against each other out of habit, and he took a deep breath, savoring his sense of her as he closed his eyes.

Alex swallowed, tried to push down the sudden rush of randiness that had inappropriately spiked in her. Why did he have to smell so god-damned good, she wondered? She pushed it aside. Hopefully, there would be time for that later. She forced her focus and slipped _into_ him.

 _Hunger, a deep hollow ache stretching through every limb, centered on an agony primal in its terrible, trembling need._ Alex wrenched back out, momentarily startled. She recognized the sensation, but it was stronger than her dream tenfold. Idly, she wondered when was the last time Hal had eaten proper food. She wondered if it mattered. Images were pressing at her edges, nudging in. _Tides and water, light and sky. The air of salt and heather, hedges and moors. Feet anchored in sand, a thatched roof cottage on a short bluff... and a gnawing need underneath it all. Alex could feel the sun on her face, hear the cry of gulls. The hunger was part of the memory, etched into the place as clearly as the shoreline._

_The image expanded through her..._

In contrast to the sun-soaked memory, the extreme sense of _wet_ was hugely disorienting. The tide sucked at their waists, tugged at her dress and filled her pockets. Hal had his arms over her shoulders but his eyes were wincing and shut. Alex still had hold of him and tried to keep them steady. The shore was a good forty feet away. Keeping hold of his shoulders, Alex righted them onto the sand with one sideways pull. Hal wrenched away from her grasp with desperate strength and dropped to his knees. Fingers clawed the sand and suddenly, he dry heaved. Alex immediately dropped next to him but he waved her off. "I'm - it's - urugh." After a worrying moment, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and came upright, knees still in sand. "This was an utterly horrendous idea."

"I'm sorry - I don't know how I missed -"

"You didn't. It's been centuries. The bloody shoreline changed." Hal stood a bit unsteadily and scowled at his trousers. His clothing was soaked through, shirt stuck wetly against skin and his boots full of seawater. "Wonderful."

Alex recalled the sensation of water filling her pockets and looked down. The silk of her dress shimmered lightly in the breeze, totally dry. She shrugged at the mystery of it and offered, "Maybe we can fetch you something in town?"

"Doubtful. These are islanders. They either close shop early, or aren't open at all until the weekend," Hal reasoned, but the truth was he didn't feel steady enough after their jump to approach people. He attempted to brush off the sand clinging to his sodden trousers without much luck. Then, using Alex's shoulder for balance, he removed a boot with a swift tug of the laces, tipped the the water out, replaced it, then did the same with the other. Miffed at the indignity of it all, and at his own mistake, he straightened, then indicated towards the grassy hillside. "Come on. We may as well find the car."

Alex followed Hal up a pathway from the shore to the bluff above. The little thatched-roof cottage from his memory was nowhere to be seen. A single road wound down, into the distant hills, and disappeared. The only thing interrupting the rolling green landscape of hedges was a square blue speck of a lone vehicle, parked just off the road. They started the moderate walk towards it.

Hal's boots squelched wetly and his trousers, laden with seawater, chafed against the burn on his leg. Before they had even reached the tiny blue Renault, he declared, "I'm not driving all the way to Harris in _that_ like _this."_

Rook's resources were vast, but apparently not very impressive. The old navy Alliance was so rusted it was questionable the thing would even start. Maybe this wasn't their car at all. Maybe someone had just left it out here on the lonely bluff to die.

Hal retrieved the key from behind the driver's rear tyre, just where it was supposed to be. "Shit, that thing looks like it'll break down on general principle," Alex retorted.

The key worked and Hal opened the driver's door to peer in. The car appeared clean, at least. He checked his watch, thankful it had remained dry. "We have time," he mused. "Its only twenty minutes to the village. We will be paying a visit to our cover after all."

* * *

Kitchen scrubbed down, supper pies baked and even the recycling sorted; Tom McNair finally had to admit that his work was finished for the day. He hadn't seen Alex or Hal since this morning, which was a blessing really. He was terrible at lying.

Tom glanced at the industrial metal clock high up over the sink. He should be catching his bus to class right now. Untying the strings, Tom took off his apron and hung it up.

"Bye Tom," Sophie chimed pleasantly from the worktable where she was finishing up dinner prep. She had been even more quiet today than usual, and Tom knew it was on account of Hal shouting at him. But she hadn't asked questions of him either, which was nice.

Stepping out into the afternoon, Tom watched the departing bus that would have taken him to the college for his class. Last night, his decision had been made. Still, it had taken him lengthy considering to come to accords. Sitting at the edge of a pier, he had watched the blackness of night ebb into shades of grey before he had resigned himself.

Leaving in the opposite direction of his bus, Tom started walking.

* * *

The storybook perfection of the stone cottage they came to beyond the village took Alex by surprise with its window boxes and little blue shutters. "You know people who live here?" She asked Hal, who had paused at the gate.

Just beyond was an organized garden, raised beds in rows with crushed seashell gravel between. Shears and soft leather gardening gloves had been left on a weeding stool.

The gate creaked pleasantly when Hal opened it, "Apparently, I do," he replied, eying the leather gloves.

The path to the door led through the garden and was the same worn stone as the house, with a lush ground cover growing in between. Blue star creeper, Alex recalled as they passed. Her mother's favorite.

At Hal's use of the heavy brass door knocker, there were the sounds of movement inside. Behind the flicker of a lace curtain Alex caught a flash of a pale face, dark hair. The door was swung open by a young girl. Apparently, Hal didn't know her anymore than she knew him. She peered at the two of them suspiciously. From the back, a young man's voice called, "If it's those Bible peddling know-it-alls again they can suck my dick!"

Hal rolled his eyes. The voice confirmed they were indeed at the correct house. Alex was just startled.

"What do you want?" the girl asked them rather rudely.

"Adam Jacobs, if he has a moment."

"Adam!" the girl turned and hollered with a booming bark. Then she glanced back at Alex. "I know what _he_ is, but what are you?"

Before Alex could answer, another teenager, wearing a "Kiss the Chef" apron and an annoyed expression, came down the hall. At the sight of Hal his young face lit up with a wide grin.

"Well shit the bed. If it isn't the Queen Mother!" Adam elbowed the girl aside. Alex couldn't fathom how Hal had possibly come to know this brazen youth.

"You seem well," Hal stated.

"Yeah, yeah. Come in. You gonna introduce me to hot stuff there?" he asked as they followed him inside.

"Adam, Alex," Hal obliged. With emphasis, he added, "My _girlfriend_." Alex was shocked. Hal had never actually called her that.

"Alright, my man!" Adam exclaimed, then pointed at the girl next to him, who was already rolling her eyes. "This is Christa. _Not_ my girlfriend."

Christa whacked him with her magazine. "That's because you're married nitwit." Only then did Alex realize that they both had addressed her. They could see her. Adam must be a vampire, she realized with a start. God, what a horrible thing, to be stuck permanently as a teenager. And she thought Hetty had it bad…

Clipped heels could be heard approaching, and an attractive, middle-aged woman joined them in the foyer. She was wearing a flour-covered apron over a stiff pressed tweed skirt. Something in the way she carried herself reminded Alex of Mary Poppins. Her eyes lit up with a warm smile.

"Hal! What a surprise," she greeted, brightly. "What on earth has brought you up here?" After asking, she quickly shook her head. "Never mind. You're nearly in time for supper. Will you be staying?" Without leaving room to answer, she stepped forward and held out a hand to Alex, "Yvonne Bradshaw my dear."

Alex shook it, somewhat confused that this woman could see her as well as the other two. _Were they all vampires?_ "Alex Millar," she introduced herself.

"Oh! You're a ghost," Yvonne noted. "I'm learning to tell, as it were," she stated to Hal.

"Apologies for the intrusion, but this was an unexpected sojourn," Hal stated, hiding the way they had truly arrived, then looked down at himself. "And there has been a malady of travel."

"He fell off the dinghy," Alex added to corroborate his story. He gave her a very brief look of irritation.

"Oh," Yvonne raised an eyebrow but tactfully changed the subject. "You must be staying at The Barn?"

Hal looked absolutely appalled at the suggestion. "Uh, no. We were going to head to Harris tonight."

Yvonne momentarily looked confused. "To Leverburgh? That's impossible, unless you'll be sailing your dinghy." Hal's expression flickered briefly, exposing Alex's lie. "You're missing the last ferry as we speak." At their perplexed looks Yvonne continued, "The just switched to the Autumn schedule I'm afraid. There's only two crossings now, as of yesterday."

"Of course. I meant tomorrow. We have one more -"

"You'll stay with us," Yvonne declared brusquely.

"Thank you for the offer, but we really must be -"

"I insist. I don't know what state of affairs brought you here like this, but we wouldn't be ones to judge. We owe you the same kindness after all. I'll whip up another brioche."

"Trust me. Anything she whips up is worth it," Adam made an obscene gesture that Yvonne was completely nonplussed by.

"Get you!" Alex chuckled, amused by this uncouth young man.

Yvonne scrutinized Hal, taking in his damp clothes and wet boots. "Something of Adam's will have to suffice until we can get you washed and dried. Adam?"

Adam was twitching his eyebrow at Alex rather lewdly but looked back to Hal. "Sure thing. Hey - how's the blob?" Adam asked as he started down the corridor and Yvonne returned to the kitchen. Christa was looking between Hal & Alex, realization dawning on her face.

"You're the vampire they stayed with in Barry. You're like him," Christa motioned to Adam who paused. "Off the blood."

Hal nodded, glad to evade Adam's question about Eve, and removed his wet boots. Once they could return home, he'd have to clean the leather thoroughly to be rid of the salt water treatment. Until then he would be stuck with unpleasantly damp shoes, which was a thoroughly horrid thought. Christa cocked her head at him as he unlaced his boots entirely in a woeful attempt at more air circulation.

"You really don't look that old. Huh. Fucking vampires," she swore then wandered off.

Adam rolled his eyes, "Don't mind her. She gets cranky this close to her monthlies. It's like PMS on steroids around here." He motioned for them to follow. Judging by the comment, Alex then realized that Christa must be a werewolf. Hal didn't seem fazed so he must have already sensed it, just as the young girl could immediately tell what he was. Alex wasn't as well equipped to distinguish between supernatural types.

Adam started giving them a brief tour. "Right, here be the bath. Down there's Christa's room. Don't go in there if you value your life."

"I heard that," Christa's voice came muffled from the living room.

"There's towels in here," Adam, unperturbed, pointed to a cupboard. Beyond it was a slender stairway leading up, and beyond that, another bedroom door at the end of the hall. "I'll be right back with a change-o." He gave Alex a debonair eye, "Any requests, gorgeous? I've got chaps."

Alex's eyes went wide and she quickly tried to cover her guffaw with her hand.

Hal just covered his eyes, wincing at Adam's behavior. He shouldn't be surprised really. "Why don't you see if Yvonne would like help in the kitchen? I won't be long." Hal offered Alex the suggestion to avoid subjecting her to Adam while he cleaned up.

Adam shrugged and left to fetch some spare clothes. Alex chuckled with total amusement, "I can't believe he stayed with you and _lived_." Hal opened the cupboard and selected a towel with a sigh. She noticed he was moving rather stiffly, "You sure you're alright?"

"I will be better after I remove the bits of sand from uncomfortable places."

"And you're certain you want to stay here? I may be able to jump us across as long as I can see where I'm going."

Hal looked completely appalled at the thought. "I'd rather not again so soon, honestly," he said, cringing somewhat. "Waiting until morning is just as well. It is not as if we were expected."

"Here you go," Adam emerged from the back bedroom, closing the door behind him. He offered a stacked bundle of clothing to Hal. It all looked fairly standard so Hal took it. Not wearing someone else's clothing really _should_ be on his list. But since soggy trousers soaked in saltwater were even more unbearable, he would make do for a few hours.

"What were you doing in a dinghy anyway? Looking for mermaids?" Adam asked then chuckled at his own joke. "We can toss yours in the wash. Maybe Alex can bring it out," Adam winked at her.

"You're permanently _gantin!_ " Alex blurted, finally just stating the obvious.

"I've no idea what you just called me, but I guarantee I've been called worse. Probably by Christa. C'mon. Let's leave the man to his bath and you can tell me all about dating a relic. Does he read you poetry? "

Alex gave one backwards glance to Hal in the doorway. He just shook his head, but Alex caught a glint of a half smile as he closed the door.

* * *

The walk wasn't far for one such as Tom, who had grown up accustomed to traversing long trails. He enjoyed the stroll that took him along the waterfront and down past the docks. It was the same route he had traveled the night prior, when everything had changed. While he walked, Tom recalled the chance encounter that hadn't been chance at all.

Irving hadn't yet been a werewolf a year. He was a little older than Tom, but still hadn't quite grown into his skin. Due to his slight build and easy-going character, his pack had decided he would be the most disarming of them with which to make introductions.

At first, Tom had tried to outrun him. It hadn't taken long for the wind to shift, carrying the scent of the werewolf in pursuit. Tom probably would have sensed him sooner if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his troubles.

"Tom McNair!" his pursuer had finally shouted, growing breathless.

Tom slowed, then stopped, abruptly wheeling to confront the stranger. In a fit of recklessness, his anger still brewing under the surface, Tom growled out in challenge, "Who wants ta' know?"

As the figure approached, stepping out of the darkness, Tom could see the hint of scars peeking out from under his collar. He was young, sandy haired and red faced.

Halting a safe distance away, the other werewolf caught his breath. "And I'm s'posed to be one of our fair runners. They were right about you," he stated with a heavy Irish accent. "Irving O'Meara. Pleasure," and he gave a little salute.

"Who were right?"

"My pack, Mr. McNair. They want to meet you."

Tom's heart had given a little flutter of excitement. He and McNair had been looking for "The Pack" for as long as he could rightly remember. But Tom was still cautious. "Why would your pack have any interest in me?"

"Because," Irving looked rather surprised, like Tom should already know. "You're famous, 'tis why. Now, we're all actually not too far from here."

"That's grand, but... why should I trust you?"

"Ah, no reason I s'ppose. I be knowing we mean ye no harm, but you won't be knowing that there." Irving shrugged his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels. "Are you not the least bit curious? We certainly are 'bout you. I mean - to be turned as just a wee lad? There's none like it. There's stories bout you, and your Da."

"Stories? 'Bout me?" Tom asked incredulously.

"Aye! 'Bout your hunts. It really true that you took out that whole nest of vampires back in Cardiff last year?"

Irving really did seem to know. Tom just shrugged though, neither confirming nor denying.

"Look, we be camped at the caravan park just up yonder. It's open, public space. Plenty of other folk about. Why don't you come by, see for yourself? Share a story or two 'round the fire?"

Admittedly, Tom had been more than curious. In the end, his curiosity won and he had followed Irving to his camp. What harm could there be in meeting a few werewolves?

* * *

_*The Barn is an actual, real life "luxury" holiday rental on Grimsay. Looks rather nice._  
 _*For those who did not already do a Google, "gantin" is Scottish slang for horny._


	10. Colour Me Impressed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal.  
>  Reviews are love._
> 
> * * *

Old oak, polished and darkly gleaming, offset the plush red velvet. Candlelight flickered amidst muted sconces, in keeping with the discretionary ambiance of the private club. Richard Turner sipped a tall glass of supper and tried, unsuccessfully, to relax. Restraint had to be used to keep from checking his phone with incessant repetition. Since he was currently avoiding his office, the device was his only tether to his business.

The past two days had been a painful blur that began with the news of the bombing and had gone downhill hence. His time had been spent on the phone, Skype and email, arranging a full property scan to assess the increasingly revealed damages. He had been shocked to discover the extent to which his latent assets had been targeted. London had merely been the last in a progressive string of attacks. _Brutal hounds!_ He should have seen this coming. He had been so pre-occupied with righting the mess of the Old Ones, placating Hetty, and forming the Council - not to mention fretting over Henry's intentions - that he had let their own business fall lax. Fight rings - six of them gone! Each of them had fallen without witnesses or explanation. The meager staff he had placed to oversee each dormant locale were all missing. None had returned his messages.

Within that first sleep-deprived morning his assistant Celine had proven her worth. She had already taken the initiative to deploy investigatory measures before he had returned her calls. At her urging, and due to the convenience, he made a personal detour to Bristol on his return journey from Barry. What he found would soon manifest as a familiar scenario; their caretakers were gone, the post piled up at the door, cups ringed with dehydrated liquid near the tele and stale food in the fridge. Their employee's personal effects were all still in place. The only sign of a struggle was a fine residue of dusty ash settled over the table, and a lingering scent of wolf. Vampires, especially lower-tiered ones, disappeared far too easily. Perhaps he should consider employing more humans. At least then the systematic murder of his staff would leave more evidence with which to work.

Celine had reported four other locations failing to respond. As a precaution, he had sent her away. She needed to avoid the office as well as her flat in the event that all of their properties were under threat, at least until Richard could unravel some leads to find the dogs behind this. The Council, many of whom were clients, had provided them with a safe house, one to which Richard should himself be traveling. His contacts within the London police could only hold back the tide so much.

Richard took another sip of decanted blood and reached for his phone, just as the thing vibrated a pleasant announcement. It wasn't Celine, but another one of his employees. Richard sighed aloud and read the message.

_Have news. Meet me at the Horseshoe tonight if you can._

Richard downed the last of his drink and slammed the glass on the table. Duty called.

* * *

"And that's why there's no point in wearing your favorite rocketship underpants."

Christa was smiling broadly, won over by Alex's gruff teasing of Adam. The ghost was a sharp match for his gutter wit. Hal cleared his throat from the doorway to the kitchen which caused Christa, who was facing his way, to raise one dark eyebrow. "Um, I'll just go set the table," she said with sudden awkwardness. Alex turned around. Her already bright smile broadened.

"Oh _no_ way!" she chuffed.

Yvonne looked up from the salad she was preparing and tutted, "Adam, really."

"What? He looks hot. Alex appreciates it, am I right?"

Alex punched Adam in the arm, but kept grinning. "I must admit I imagined it. But I never _ever_ expected to see you in skinny jeans." She laughed and went over to wrap her arm around Hal's waist, which appeared all the more slender the way the jeans hugged his hips. He'd have to beat the ladies off with a stick, if he didn't also look so painfully awkward.

Hal just shook his head and sighed. He didn't need to see himself in a mirror to know how absurdly tight Adam's loaned shirt and jeans were. The short shirt sleeves cuffed just over his biceps and the shirt itself threatened to ride up if he moved too much. But the trousers were the worst, hugging every inch of his legs, pressing rather suggestively into certain places. To add insult to injury they were two inches too short, the hem just over his bare ankles. This was almost worse than when he had to dress up for baby Eve's GP.

He was startled by Alex slipping her hand into his back pocket, an action he would have thought impossible. Adam had turned away, carrying the salad bowl into the dining room and Yvonne was busy opening the oven. Alex whispered into his ear, "You look great." Her hand had increased the pressure of the fabric and he seriously began to second guess his choice to forgo Adam's undergarments. "Just don't bend over."

"I highly doubt that I could. Is this seriously popular attire?"

"Been getting hipsters laid for decades now," Alex teased.

"Really Hal, I can find you something more comfortable," Yvonne offered. "I have a clean pair of -"

"No, no. I'm fine. Thanks." The idea of Yvonne dressing him was even worse than what he currently had to contend with. He would make do.

"Well just let me know if you change your mind. Supper is ready."

* * *

As he approached the camp, Tom could sense the unmistakable scent of the pack on the afternoon breeze. Last night, their scent had been even more pronounced than it was today.

Skin warmed by campfire had hit him like a punch in the gut, right through to his dormant wolf. His hackles had raised; his cautionary instincts competed with an undeniable curiosity. Irving had smiled warmly, knowing exactly what he was sensing, and led him jovially around a camper-van. Even though the figures around the fire had undoubtedly picked up their scent, Irving had called out a greeting nonetheless.

"Dia dhóibh!"

"Dia is Muire dhóibh," came the reply from a gruff-looking fellow. He could have been the same age as McNair had been. With close cut, silvering hair and hardened dark eyes, there was something about him that struck Tom as familiar. The man's cursory glance caused the bowl he was holding to give a slight jerk in surprise at seeing Tom. The two other figures at the fire, one an attractive dark-haired woman and the other a small boy who couldn't be older than ten, stared at Tom openly. "Ye found him then," the gruff fellow said to Irving as he stood, wiping the palm of his hand on his jeans.

"Aye. Gave me a lean run he did. Tom McNair, this is Conal Gwedore, my sire."

Tom extended his hand politely. Conal's grip was hearty and assured. "I be honored, Master McNair."

"Eh, just Tom really," Tom answered, feeling awkward at the formality from this strong man. "So you're Irving's Da?"

"Nay. I be his _mactíre athar_ , his wolf father. Just as Anthony McNair was to you."

"Did you know him?"

"N'er been granted the pleasure, but I've heard me stories. Your _athar_ and ye'self be the Barry Slayers. And you've had the wolf longer than most of us, me'self included. You care for a cup of stew? There be plenty in the pot."

"But how do you know? My Da and I, we never found many others like ourselves. Who coulda told you bout us?"

"Vampires of course. You be loads famous with 'em," Irving chimed in and Conal caught him in a quick reprimanding glance. Irving pursed his lips and made himself busy over the stewpot.

Conal returned his gaze to Tom. "One I done in a while back, he taunted 'fore I ended him. Addressed me as 'McNair.' Was not hard to track ye down long aft. If it weren't for that one you live with, I reckon they'd have come after you."

"They did once, actually."

"And I reckon you made ash of them then?" Conal asked bluntly.

"Er, yeah. Hal helped..." Tom had been surprised he felt the compulsion to defend Hal, even though he had still been mad at his friend for keeping mum in regards to dogfights. The entirety of his first conversation with this small pack had run him through a range of shifting emotions. Hal was still family, and Tom recognized that despite his initial excitement, these wolves were strangers. The awe of meeting more of his kind had given way to caution, even if the curiosity still held.

"Like I said. If it weren't for him. Anyway, here be our lot. Irving you met. This here's Maud, and the little one's Begley."

Tom nodded politely to each. Irving handed him a tin mug of stew, taking his own serving with him to an upright log of firewood. He motioned Tom to the empty camp chair. The stew was thick and smelled wonderful. Tom's stomach growled as he took the mug and the offered seat. Begley had sat up straight, watching Tom with keen interest and grinning. "You know how to use the wolf to fight!" the child blurted.

"By the strength of the sun and moon," Maud exclaimed with exasperation. "Begley, hush!" She set her bowl aside and smiled at Tom warmly from across the fire. "Forgive the boy his excitement but you've become a bit of a bedtime story."

"I 'ave?" Tom furrowed his brow, setting his spoon back in the stew. This whole encounter had started odd and kept on going into odder. Tom wasn't used to being the center of anyone's attention, except for Allison. He wondered what she would make of all this. He mused that she probably would have a hundred brilliant questions to ask their fellow wolves.

"Aye," Conal concurred. "We're raising the lad with a full knowledge of his world. He needs to know how to look after himself."

"He wasn't born with the wolf, was he?" Tom thought it out loud, immediately dismissive of the possibility.

Irving interjected, "Begley was turned a month after me, a year ago." The boy looked away from them all with a guilty expression. Irving just looked sad. "He's me brother."

"Aye that. Maud and I, we caught up with these two unfortunately too late for young Begley."

"He's me brother. I tried to keep him away, but he found me. Right before the change it was." Irving's voice was rough with remorse.

Tom's heart had dropped, recognizing the youth's story as being painfully similar to George and Nina's. He wondered if it was akin to his own, as well. "And your parents then too?"

"Our parents died long before the wolf, Mr. McNair," Irving stated. Tom wondered then just how long these two brothers had been on their own. Living off the land and outside of the social system was a sure way for a wolf to have come across them. Wolf turned brother, brother turned wolf, and on it went.

Seeming to know his line of thought, Maud spoke sagely and with softness, "We cannot change our past. What we do have the power to change, however, lies ahead of us." Her eyes lit on Conal briefly, "We've acknowledged that we're stronger together than apart."

"Which is why we've sought you out," Conal guided the conversation, and Tom's attention, back to him. "Were you aware that in Celtic lore, werewolves weren't man-eating creatures, but rather protectors? Respected even?"

"McNair said that was our duty, but he ain't never said it was historical an'that," Tom replied, then took a mouthful of stew. It was as delicious as it smelled. He eagerly took another bite, waiting for Conal to say more.

"The stories tell of wolves guiding lost children and guarding wounded men. Even today, a wolf talisman is still believed to ward off evil. In the Northern lands where I hail from, it is said that there were tribes of wolf-men living in the wilds. Ancient Kings would call on em for aid in battle. Did your sire tell you of the Ossarians, young Master McNair?"

"They like the lobisomem?" Tom asked, not wanting to sound completely ignorant of werewolf legends.

Conal shook his head. "Nay. In ancient times, Ossory was a kingdom in Eire. It now be comprised of part o'county Kilkenny. Stories say, the people of Ossory had the power to be changing themselves into wolves whenever they damn-well pleased. Saint Patrick, now, you've heard of him?" Conal asked and Tom nodded. "Well he be the one who pronounced the Ossorians as cursed. When he came round and attempted to preach to them, they howled at him like a pack-"

"Of wolves!" Begley shouted, having obviously heard this story before. He kicked his heels in amusement and Maud ruffled his hair.

"Now, none know what came of that, but some believe Saint Patrick's attempts to cure the Ossorians be what got us where we are today," Conal concluded.

"Changing only at the moon, like?" Tom asked, unsure if that was what Conal meant.

"And cursed, rather than blessed, yes," Maud answered, standing to take her bowl to a wash tub set out next to the camper.

"But the wolf ain't a curse. McNair always said."

"And that we too, believe," Conal answered, watching Maud leave. "Tis just a matter of having the right knowledge. And, leverage."

"Leverage?"

"In one sense, the boy was right." Conal paused, stopping to look Tom right in the eye. "We're hoping you can help teach us, Tom McNair."

"Me? Teach you?"

"You've been one with your wolf since you were a wee lad, correct? You were taught to channel your strength to fight?"

Tom set his empty cup in his lap, the spoon clinking. It wasn't so much that he was taught, though he supposed he had been. Just that he hadn't known any different. He wouldn't even know where to begin. "The wolf is just, well… me. There ain't no channeling, is the thing."

"Do you remember, the next day?"

"Somewhat. Smells, animals… faces. If I made I kill or not. Don't you?"

Conal nodded to himself, mulling his answer over. "Tis as I thought. Most of us awaken with the night's activities completely blank. You've honed it."

"McNair did too… or, at least I thought. But it were the moments right before we always used."

" _During_ the change? But the pain..."

"Up to an hour before is when we're at our strongest," Tom said matter-of-factly. "All our senses are heightened, but so is all else."

Conal nodded, but still looked perplexed. "How'in do you hold it back? How do you get somewhere safe?"

"We didn't," Tom shrugged.

"You mean…"

"We'd ambush our targets and those not taken out beforehand would be locked in with us."

"I see." Conal nodded, but also regarded Tom, impressed.

The more Tom had told them about how he and McNair had operated, the more he _wanted_ to tell them. He had been feeling so lost in his attempts to be normal, to be human. In contrast, this felt perfectly right. Here was a group where his skills and unusual upbringing were valued. This was somewhere he could finally belong. He hadn't been thinking of it as an either-or situation. He had no intention of leaving home or the hotel. But working with a pack, helping others like McNair had helped him, would be a better fit than working his way through the adult education system. It was a better fit than trying to be someone he was not. And this was merely the beginning. The Irish pack knew of others, of more werewolves like themselves who were tired of hiding. Conal hadn't even known about the ability of their blood to burn.

As he came around the camper, the late afternoon breeze off the water blowing against him, Begley came running up to him. "Tom!"

Tom grinned heartily and dropped into a crouch to catch the young lad in a bear hug. Maud stepped outside as well, wiping her hands on a terry.

Slipping it free from the inner lining of his jacket, Tom handed the stake he had hidden to Begley. The little boy's eyes went wide as he took the red-worn wood in his small hands. "We're gonna start with this."

* * *

They all were seated round the antique dining table, plates served, when Yvonne asked, "So, tell me how you two met."

If Alex had been capable of drinking, she would have shot her wine out her nose. Hal, in rare sly humor, covered for her, "She insisted on a date and look what happened..."

"You _killed_ her?" Adam asked disbelieving. "I _knew_ that shit bout the lute was bull!"

Alex recovered, "No! Hal didn't kill me. His crazy-schemes vampire buddy did."

"And you really should give the lute a chance," Hal smiled, but also redirected the conversation. "I hear congratulations are in order. We received your card. Thank you." There had been a heartfelt letter addressed to Annie as well, but Hal thought it best not to mention.

Adam beamed at Yvonne and sweetly took her hand, "There was none other for me."

"Nor I," Yvonne answered. Christa made a gagging sound across the table.

"You'll find someone someday dear. After college," Yvonne advised.

"And Grimsay? You seem settled in rather well." Diplomatically, Hal tried to keep the dinner conversation moving.

"Yes, island life suits us. Far less people to contend with," Yvonne answered and Alex assumed she meant for Adam. "I even managed to secure employment with the museum. The headlines don't often reach up here."

"But there's nothing to do!" Christa argued. "Everyone is old and smells of fish."

"But its safe," Yvonne added. "Relatively."

At that Christa didn't have an argument. She went starkly quiet, actually. This time Adam took the helm, "How's Annie and the blob? We're both still here so all that whack bout the kid being the War Child must have been a load."

Hal set down his glass and tapped his finger against the base. It was going to come to this, eventually. He had just hoped to prolong it. "Oh no, it was true. Eve really was the War Child." He brought his gaze to meet Adam's. "I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Eve was killed. And Annie has passed over."

Yvonne immediately looked consoling, but Adam looked perplexed. "So, you came here to tell me we're going to drop dead?"

"No, you should be fine. Eve and Annie, they ended the Old Ones."

"But you're still here."

"Yes, I'm still here," Hal agreed, sounding sadly resigned, as though it was still a terribly heavy burden.

"A lot has happened..." Alex stepped in. She cocked her head at Hal, feeling suddenly uncertain but he nodded, granting her permission. Between them, they proceeded to fill the table in on the basic details.

"Well colour me impressed. So now you're a bloody unicorn," Adam stated sullenly when they concluded the narrative with Tom's bomb, and the detonation that Annie set off causing the downfall of the Old Ones.

With reluctance, Hal added, "Alas, it does not end there. The power balance is in upheaval. There have been other bombings."

"Surely not by Tom?" Yvonne, startled, asked in disbelief.

"No, Tom's in school," Alex shrugged, as if that explained everything.

"We think a group of werewolves are involved. We have journeyed here to talk to someone on Harris who may know more about it."

"How did you come to find out?" Yvonne asked.

Hal & Alex glanced between each other briefly. Rook hadn't sworn them to secrecy about the Department, but it was obvious most supernaturals weren't meant to know. Alex thought it was bollocks. With a little kick of revenge, she dove in and told them. "There is a hidden faction of the government that has been monitoring the supernatural world for ages. They're all about keeping the lid on vampires, werewolves and ghosts. They clean up the leftovers and make bodies disappear. They keep us secret."

"Like... Men in Black?" Christa asked, trying to wrap her head around the concept.

"No, more akin to men in grey. They disguise themselves as civil workers," Hal elaborated as Christa and Alex exchanged a glance.

"They don't seem to police supernaturals exactly, but yeah," Alex answered since she knew the movie Christa was referring to. The conversation momentarily stalled while Adam, Christa and Yvonne contemplated the implications.

"But why would they just keep covering us up?" Christa asked, breaking the silence. "If they know about us, why not just put us down?" She said the last with vehemence.

Hal met the girl's dark eyes. He recognized now the heaviness of guilt in her. The wolf had caused her to do something she was beginning to hate herself for, and that was probably why she had come to seek the isolation of Grimsay. He chose his words carefully. "Many of us do deserve just that," he included himself in the statement. "However, many do not," he continued, meeting Yvonne's eyes, and then Christa's. "Some embrace their monsters, while others are merely people who have been afflicted with something they cannot control. Would _you_ wish to be the judge and jury of such a thing?"

"But people - innocent people end up murdered!" Christa protested.

"Aye," Alex agreed, surprising Hal. "I'm proof of that. But people die every day. Usually, at the hands of other humans." It was a solemn statement, but Alex didn't let the pause linger. "The Men in Grey do seem to stop the deaths they can anticipate. At least, the big ones. They were prepared to take out Hal, if he reverted..." Alex let the thought trail with an inner shudder, again thankful for his ability to control himself. "The Men in Grey believe that dry vampires pose a larger risk of catastrophe, which is how we found out about them."

"Well, they must not know everything. They didn't stop me," Yvonne sounded saddened.

"Your kind are a little more difficult to track, I'd imagine. But they are aware that you're here. Both of you," Hal admitted. Yvonne cocked her head in surprise.

Adam caught Alex's look of befuddlement and cracked a sly grin. "Yvonne is a succubus," he said it almost like he was proud.

"Adam!"

"Well you are. And a damn fine one I might add," his widening grin broke the tension in the room as he squeezed her thigh under the table. Yvonne slapped him away with her napkin.

Christa rolled her eyes. "See what I have to put up with?"

Alex just watched the whole exchange completely floored. "Excuse me, a what?"

"Human daughter of a demon. I was regretfully, born this way. I'm coming to terms with it. Adam, as well as Annie and Hal, have helped me with that." Yvonne smiled bravely.

"What does it mean exactly?" Alex asked, still completely confused.

"Men fall in love with her if she touches them. It is _seriously_ bloody annoying," Adam answered.

"But now that I know and have accepted it, I am finally learning that I can control it."

"She wears super sexy gloves," Adam winked.

"So vampires are immune then yeah?" Alex asked, glancing between Hal and Adam.

"No," Hal shook his head. "Vampires are not immune from the spell. Merely the outcome."

Yvonne looked to Adam and sighed, this time patting his arm gently, "Adam was the first person I loved, who didn't tragically die."

"Cuz you can't kill what's already dead," Christa concluded.

"Would anyone care for dessert?" Yvonne offered suddenly, standing up and beginning to clear the table, obviously uncomfortable with talking about her condition.

Alex stood as well, "Here, let me help." She levitated the remaining platters, bowls and utensils into one floating stack with barely a thought to it.

"Oh! Now that's handy," Yvonne smiled and the two women departed for the kitchen, Alex pushing the dishes ahead of herself.

Adam leaned across the table to Hal, "Dude, your girlfriend is one sexy -"

"Lay off it, Adam." Hal wasn't irritated though. He watched them go, noting just how strong Alex had become with her abilities, and smiled. "I know."


	11. Percolation and Politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._  
>  Reviews make me shine from the inside out. __
> 
> * * *

The Horseshoe was one of Bermondsey's last surviving dives. Neutral territory from vampire politics, it was a place where they intermingled unbeknownst to the predominantly human establishment. Mediocre reviews and the lack of a web presence, combined with a difficult to locate address, kept the crowds down.

Steven Pyke, currently going by the more modern moniker of Spike, was nervously twirling a beading glass of water. Probably for the best, thought Richard. The beer was often suspect here. As was the tea.

With a quick flick of his wrist the lad checked the phone at his side. The little screen illuminated the shadows of his booth, revealing the untidy state of his normally tidy hair and deepening the hollows of his face. Richard sat down opposite, laying his suit coat aside. Spike looked up in surprise at his appearance with a nervous glance around the rest of the room, "You came."

"Of course. Desperate times and all that. What have you got?"

Spike's blue eyes flickered to his phone, then back to Richard. "They took out Edward in Derry. It was all clean and clapped, same as you found in Bristol."

"And you couldn't have told me this over the telephone because…?" Richard let his annoyance show. Steven Pyke had been trying to wedge his way up the hierarchy even before he had come under Turner and Yorke employment. Such behavior that his maker - a vampire who had been in favour with the Old Ones and now, the Council - irritatingly encouraged. The incident when he "discovered" Henry and his werewolf friends by mere happenstance only being the most recent.

Spike leaned forward to whisper across the table, "Because sir, I smelt something odd. Same scent we caught in Lord Harry's locker. Not a wolf. A _human_."

Richard raised an eyebrow, "You think -" but the waitress appeared and he paused.

Setting a menu down in front of him, "Anything to drink to get you started off there?"

Richard kept his eyes on his companion across the table, "Just coffee please," he ordered. The server departed to fetch his coffee and he leaned back in the booth. "The _same_ human?"

Spike hesitated, a flash of uncertainty crossing his finely chiseled features before he nodded. "I believe so."

"You don't say," Richard mused, letting the suspicion percolate.

* * *

After she parked her car, Allison looked up at the corner brick townhouse that was now her home. For the first time since she had moved in, the windows were dark. Alex and Hal were usually home, or barring that, Tom always beat her back from class and would have started preparations for supper. Tonight, however, she seemed to be on her own. Allison gathered her shoulder bag, shut the car door and started up the walk. She had to rummage on her keychain to find the correct key since she barely had need to use it since moving in. Her housemates were surely still away on Rook's errand, given Hal's message from earlier. And perhaps Tom had merely fallen asleep on the sofa after being out all the night before. Or, perhaps he was uncharacteristically, still out.

As she opened the door and turned on the light, her suspicions were confirmed. The kitchen and living room were empty; the house was quiet. Tom hadn't told her over the phone this morning why he had stayed out all night. Only that he was alright and sorry if she worried. He said they'd talk tonight.

Allison checked her phone in case she had somehow missed a message. Confirming there was none, she noted the time, then climbed the stairs to at least look into Tom's room. It was a silly, human thing to do really. Her senses already told her that she was alone in the house.

Tom's room, awash in a blue glow from the pale light coming in the window, was untouched. Not only was he not here, but Tom hadn't come home at all. His school bag still sat where he had left it yesterday and his unkempt bedding hadn't shifted. Allison could make out the folds where she had curled up late last night, waiting for him. She looked around the room, then closed the door. She had research to do and an argument to formulate a draft for. She sorely wasn't interested in either. All she wanted to do was talk to Tom. Maybe her parents were right. Romantic interests in college were nothing but trouble.

Too late now, she supposed.

Still, she continued upstairs to her room. Unlike Tom's, it was neat and orderly. Not nearly as austere as Hal preferred to keep things, but orderly nonetheless. Her bed was made, clothing folded and put away and books on her shelf. The desk where she organized her coursework and thoughts was stacked with various in-progress projects. Above was her working board where she kept the details and arguments of the trial she had chosen for her term paper. Allison ignored all of it. She set her shoulder bag down and pulled free her laptop. Placing it on the desk, she opened it with the idea of checking her email. Then she would return downstairs to distract herself from waiting for Tom with making supper.

Amidst the usual junk and social media notifications was one actual email. The message had been sent earlier that afternoon, though she supposed with the time difference it had been morning for him.

_Greetings Senhorita,_

_I did not realize from your earlier message that you are English. It will be easiest if we communicate in this way. There is very much so a pack of these creatures here. Any local can tell you to avoid the western outlands on nights when the moon is largest. The touristas travel there to hear the howling. It is most unfortunate that many think the howling comes from the local children, but that is not so. I have seen these creatures first hand and know the truth. These are no children. Our city is home to the Lobisomem, and in kind there are just as many cases of missing persons. I had been looking for my cousin when I saw them. I have not seen my cousin since. Usually, one does not see the Lobisomem and return to tell the tale. You and I are very similar in that regard. My study until now had been of the cultural significance. I was interested in the anthropological aspects of myth. I no longer believe we are dealing with myth._

_In fact, I know it to be truth. Perhaps you and I are similar in that regard too._

_I am curious of what myth and story you have uncovered in your own country and how it relates to your encounter._

_Vinnie_

Allison closed the laptop. Given the advancements in the last day, she would need to ponder how best to craft her response. If Vinicius did happen to know about the Lobisomem penchant for explosives, he probably wouldn't just come out and say. She decided to stew on it while starting some pasta.

She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a key in the door and her breath caught, knowing it was Tom. She met him in the foyer, and a brief look of guilt flashed across his features. Something wasn't right. Her senses told her something was off even before she could detect what.

"Where were you? What's going on?" Allison practically attacked him, all her pent up worry turning into irritation at the sight of his sheepish face. "You smell funny." He stood just inside the doorway, clasping his hands. "Tom," Allison started, then saw the mud on his sneakers. "Are you... _slaying_ again?"

"No. Nuthin like that," he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Then what? Because you're obviously up to something. You don't get a treatment like that on the 95."

"I wasn't on me bus today Allison."

"You can only miss so many days in a term you know, and-"

"I know. It won't be mattering," Tom looked away, feigning a sudden interested in the wallpaper.

"And why not?" Allison demanded. Tom worried at his lip, his brow furrowing. He took a deep breath before answering her.

"I'm not cut out for it is why not."

"Tom - course you are. You're smart! Clever!"

"I know all that. Its just... its not my place. I know it ain't." He stepped forward to take her hand, but faltered. Allison had that look of determination when she was about to launch into a debate. Tom had to stop her before she began, otherwise he'd be done for. He caught her hand and steeled himself, remembering his resolve of the night before. "I know what you'd say. That I'm dead clever an' all and can do anything I put my mind to. Well that's just it. I don't want to. Them classes ain't for me. I'm out of my element and feel useless. Like... a blundering rhino."

Allison furrowed her brow, her glasses tilting. "A rhino?"

"Lemme finish. You're a learned person. You had all this 'fore the the wolf. For me, the woods and killing is all I'd ever known. I'm knowing more now, but there's degrees, you know? You can take a rhino out of the wilds and put him a zoo, but you can't teach him to be something he ain't. Even if he wants to, he'll still always be looking out for fires."

"But you're not a rhino you're a person and-"

"You're right. I'm a person, and people have paths to follow. Mine isn't in class."

Allison wove her fingers through his, pursing her lips in her attempt to understand, "Are you saying you want to quit?"

"I'm saying... I'd already done it. Called on me courses and could still get that deposit back."

"Tom, I don't understand what's happened. Is this because of Hal? You're upset with him so you're going back to slaying vampires?" She cupped his hand, earnest in her concern.

"No - cor' not. Hal never told me not to do any slaying. He just got me thinking 'tis all. Then... I met someone. Last night. Couple o'someones, actually." Tom's gaze fell to their joined hands. "I met a Pack. A real, genuine Pack."

That knocked Allison off of whatever argument she was working up to. She stuttered for a moment, "Wh-wait - you did?"

"Yeah. Werewolves, Irish folks. They're at a car park just past the docks."

Allison slipped free from Tom's grasp, taking a small step back. "Tom, does Rook know about this?"

"They not those Brazilians, so what it matter?"

"Why are they here? You don't think it's funny that suddenly a bunch of Irish werewolves show up out of nowhere? How did they get here? What do they want?" Allison had started wildly gesticulating with her hands.

"Well... by putting their caravan on a boat, I'd imagine. And secondly... me." Tom stated, looking self-conscious.

"You." Allison repeated, not quite sure she understood.

Tom shrugged, "They'd heard of me'n McNair. Wanted to know how we'd done it."

"Done it? Done what?"

"Taken out vampires with a change." Tom leaned against the door and dropped his hands into his pockets again. His guilty look flashed again. Allison knew he felt differently now about killing than he once did. Even if he were still angry with Hal, it wouldn't be enough to drive him into blind slaying. Which was why she didn't understand what he was trying to tell her.

"So you ARE back to slaying," she pressed.

"I didnae say that. Just teaching is all."

"Teaching?!"

"Yeah. See?" Tom, seeming more assured straightened his posture and took a step towards her. "Instead of learning useless stuff I have no care for, I can be teaching folk. I can be helping folk."

"Tom, that's great, really. Course you can help people. But don't you think -" she started and he caught her hands again, stepping close. His large, imploring eyes stopped her thought.

"Really, it comes to this Allison," Tom started, keeping her gaze and rubbing the backs of her hands with his thumbs. "I stayed out last night cuz I couldn't decide how'd you'd feel bout me if I made such a decision. Now, Hal prob won't like it, but he and I have another bone to pick. What matters is you. I'll still -"

"Tom, that's not the point -" she attempted to interrupt him and he squeezed her hands in his, commanding her attention.

"I need to know. I have to ask…" Momentarily he looked down, his eyelids shadowed before he met her gaze once more. "What if I never amount to more than catering? What if this is the only life that suits me? Will you still _like_ me, like me, or will you be leaving me then?" He held her hands and her eyes, watching her face with careful scrutiny. _Did he not know her at all? she_ wondered.

"Oh Tom," Allison sighed, all her arguments forgotten. None of it mattered - not really, because here was the crux of it. Tom, her beautiful Tom, still failed to believe how she felt about him, after all they'd been through. "I'd love you if you had stayed a cafe worker in a burger bar. I already did."

"You did?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You do?"

"You could do whatever you wanted," Allison stated, then added with a smile, "within the relative confines of the law of course, and I'd still love you. I love you for who you are - not for who you could be someday. I thought you _wanted_ to go to school. You could be a shy, attractive stay-at-home house husband… or a teacher of werewolves. It wouldn't change how I felt one bit." Allison had stepped close to him while she talked, their hands pressed between them. Tom still didn't look like he quite believed her. Or else, his face hadn't quite caught up to believing her just yet. Allison knew she would have to seal the deal. "I love you, Thomas McNair with a T."

Tom's grin started from his eyes and widened through his whole frame. Tom's grin was too big to keep hold inside just himself. He wrapped her up in it, his hands leaving hers to encircle her waist, burying his grin in hair. When he kissed her, it was without shyness or hesitation. When he kissed her, it was as if the whole world was made right.

* * *

"It wasn't something Rook told you, about his department," Alex said while she walked with her arm looped through Hal's. They were out enjoying the sunset with Adam, Yvonne and Christa. The hill walk was apparently a regularly scheduled evening's entertainment.

"I surmised. I had the very same question as Christa, actually," Hal answered. He was walking rather stiffly in the form-fitted jeans with his damp boots. Regardless, Alex had to repress the urge to walk slightly behind him. She knew he was fit - Hell, she had come to know every gorgeous inch of him. But his choice of clothing usually hid the fact. She wondered if she would ever tire of looking at him. She surmised they had a bit of time to find out.

The light truly was spectacular this far North. Alex could see why so many artists flocked to the islands. The sunset stretched off into forever, mirrored by all the elds and inlets that surrounded them. They had come up a footpath through the moor on a slow rise. Alex could almost forget why they were here. It was nice to get away from their own homestead, habits and routines and spend the evening with friends. She had instantly grown rather fond of Adam & Yvonne, and hoped they would have the opportunity to visit again someday.

"They're separate from it all here," Alex mused. "None of what we talked about really affects them." Adam and Yvonne were talking quietly to each other up ahead, while Christa was further afield, taking close-in photographs of plants in the fading light.

"They're lucky they found each other," Hal answered. He didn't often allow himself to drink. The wine they'd had with dinner had made him a touch sentimental. He reached for Alex's hand and she wove her fingers through his with a little contented sigh.

"I wasn't so lucky to have found you," she teased. "But I'm still glad you found me. Being dead is way more fun with you around."

Hal sighed at her light-heartedness over the matter, but she nudged him with her shoulder good-naturedly in response. They walked for a ways, hand in hand, keeping hold of their gentle contentment until Hal spoke again. "Why _did_ you come back?"

"From Glasgow?"

"No, though I cannot hide that I'm thankful for that. I meant, after we first met. At the café."

"Yeh," Alex snorted a laugh. "You were just so... _you_ ," she chuckled. "I'd never been rejected in quite that way before. But... I was on holiday and trying to have a good time. My friend Emily had been after me for ages to try for a fling, and there you were; the first guy I had really wanted in long time."

"Are you actually admitting to your own stubbornness?" Hal teased her but smiled.

Alex let go of his hand to loop her arm through his, back into their comfortable pattern of walking. "Course no! But..." she trailed off. It seemed silly to say out loud. She had wondered about it, at first. When she was a newly-made ghost and stuck overwhelmed in a world she didn't entirely understand. Until the strange dream of the night prior, it had been her very last nightmare. Hal remained silent as they strolled, waiting for her. His silence always had a way of prodding her on.

"I had dreamt about you. That night."

Hal did not speak; a sense of foreboding was prickling at the back of his neck but he allowed her the space to continue.

"It was a nightmare really... I was... drowning. In the channel. I could see you standing above, distorted through the water, watching me sink deeper. But then... you saved me."

Hal kept his silence for a long time. Just as Adam and Yvonne were beginning to loop back towards them in the fading light, he uttered quietly, quoting under his breath, " _fate leads him who follows it, and drags him who resists_."

"What's that?" Alex asked, changing the subject.

"Plutarch. Greek."

Hal would never be thankful for the events that brought them together. But he had to admit that he was thankful for her presence in his life now. To whatever end.

* * *

Walking out from the narrow alley behind the Horseshoe, Richard popped a candied mint into his mouth, sucking on the hardened tab. He crunched the cellophane wrapper between his fingers, feeling every crease and the sound jarring. He needed to feed properly tonight and get some rest. Hopefully, Celine would report in soon, the same as Spike had done. She was still fielding clients and research on behalf of the firm, despite her absence.

Richard clapped the lad on the back, "Send my greetings to Rosanna."

Spike nodded, his eyes distractedly scanning the street. It was late. There wasn't much traffic out. The street was empty, pavement darkened with a slight sheen of precipitation.

Richard looked at his timepiece and shrugged into his jacket, tossing the crumpled wrapper to the ground. "We'll call you if we hear of anything."

Spike stepped away, dropping his hands into his pockets. "Are you going to get that?" he asked, indicating the wrapper. Behind Richard, right on time, a large, white van pulled around the corner and lumbered towards them.

Richard just raised an aristocratic eyebrow, "You're kidding, right?"

"You wouldn't want to get picked up for littering now, would you?"

"As if that would happen." Richard laughed throatily as he started to walk away.

The van pulled to the curb and the back doors swung open. Spike observed four men, suited in identical grey, hop out. The last one gave him the barest of nods from behind Mr. Turner, before he discreetly pointed a small Taser at their quarry. The weapon caught the elder vampire mid-step, the soft clicks startling against the quiet street. The clicking ceased and Richard Turner sank limply into the practised catch of a second suited man. In a strangely prepared choreography, the third man hoisted Mr. Turner's legs while the fourth administered a non-delicate syringe to the neck. In less than seven seconds, they hefted Richard Turner into the back of the van, closed the doors and sped away.

Spike was left standing alone on the street.


	12. Appeasement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Warning for scenes of an adult nature ahead._
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

The upper floor of Adam and Yvonne's cottage was a cozy library that moonlighted as a guest bedroom. Short bookcases lined the eaves with a couple of comfortable reading chairs flanking the edges. With head and footboard obscured by pillows of various sizes, a bed for lounging sat in the room's center. A low window on either end let in a pleasant breeze.

Alex was perusing the bookshelves while Hal ran through a constrained version of his routine. She had offered to teleport them home - none would be the wiser, she had argued. Except, he was reluctant to experience the crashing shock of it again. The memory that brought them here had slammed into him fully in that short span of timelessness in between. He hadn't felt the water when they arrived; all senses had been lost to the overwhelming amplification of _withdrawal_. When Alex had teleported them onto the beach, the sensation had fled, leaving him raw. Desolate emptiness had been replaced by what came after; the memory he had been trying to block sent him reeling. Horrors he tried to forget, but couldn't. He had learned, after Grimsay, to chain himself down; mere isolation would never be enough. The remorse of his failure hit as if it were fresh; so penetrating it made him ill.

He had been glad for the distraction of company and conversation afterwards, pulling his focus back into current events. But now, in the quiet of evening, he couldn't keep the images at bay. It would not matter how many repetitions he did. Tonight, he needed something stronger than himself to focus on.

Alex had come to sit cross-legged in one of the reading chairs near the window. She was flipping through a hardbound edition of Grimm's Fairy Tales, the silver of her rings flashing, her fringe shadowing her eyes, and her lips pursed. Hal concluded that this had to be Yvonne's collection, the books on Educational Theory being somewhat of a give away. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, Alex, unaware of his approach, was startled. He bent forward to kiss her cheek, letting her know he was going to bed. Touching her instantly incited his desire, and he ceased to second-guess his path for the evening.

Alex looked up from her book with a half smile, "So, let me see if I've got this right. Ghosts are real, obviously, as are werewolves. You're real, obviously," she grinned, closing her book. "Now so are succubi _and_ demons. But none of the rest of this fairy tale shite is real, right?"

Hal stepped away, cocked his head thoughtfully but shrugged her question aside. Now was not the time to get into that. He beckoned with his eyes for her to join him. It was sooner than she expected, but she put the book away regardless. Alex stood with care not to hit her head on the low beam, then paused to watch him peel off his tight shirt. The realization of his intentions dawned over her features, widening her smile; she unzipped her jacket, shrugging out of it. Hal doubted he would ever tire of the pleasure he derived from merely looking at her exposed neck and shoulders, creamy white and swan elegant. Her perfect throat, accentuated by her short hair, was the first thing he had noticed about her, after all. Hal closed his eyes, pushing such thoughts away.

As Hal sat on the bed, Alex untied the sash of her dress and coaxed the material from her shoulders. He was watching her intently when the fabric fell. She slipped off her camisole and tights, approaching him in just her panties and bra. His eyes hadn't left her face, but when she came to stand next to the bed, he snaked his hand around her waist with a sense of urgency. Hal's lips softened and brushed over the rise of her belly, instantly sparking that exquisite wanting. He tilted his head up, kissing her stomach and she wound her fingers into his hair. Hal's hands were already approaching the clasp of her bra and her stomach fluttered. He was rarely so forward, usually indulging in their game of allowing her to seduce him.

"Hal," her voice was already husky and he had barely done anything to her. She had been surprised at his approach, expecting him to retain a certain old-fashioned distance due to houseguest decorum. "Are you sure you want to -"

Hal's hand dropped to cup her ass, pressing her pelvis against his chest. "I guarantee they did at ours," he assured her, blowing cool air across her skin.

Grinning, Alex pushed him backwards onto the bed and straddled his waist. She leaned in to kiss him as Hal's hands curved over her hips. He was hard underneath the stiff material of the jeans. She'd barely sunk against him, sparking their connection where their bellies touched, when he rolled onto his side, forcing her off him. Several throw cushions toppled to the floor. He propped his head into his hand to regard her slyly. "Lights out," he whispered. Alex grinned, not thinking to question the sultry velvet of his voice before she plunged the room into blackness.

"Shit that's dark," she laughed and felt Hal move on the bed next to her. He edged free of the jeans while she tried to get her eyes to adjust. Hal pulled himself closer to kiss her shoulder, the angles of his torso familiar as he pressed against her chest.

"There is a lack of ambient light this far North," he confirmed, his hand moving down her arm. He remembered when night was true black, in a time when darkness reigned.

"Can you see?" she asked, wondering. Even her ghostly night vision wasn't much of a match for the blackness in the room.

"I can see enough," he answered, trailing the back of his fingers from her wrist to her ribs. With barely a touch, he was sending shivers and sparks flaring through her. His arm dropped over her waist and he hugged her closer, so her breasts were pressed against him. The fabric felt foreign, which he moved to remedy, his fingers deftly returning to unhook the clasp of her bra. There was something about the darkness, the loss of sight, that made every touch more pronounced. She was beginning to sense that he knew, and was using it to his advantage.

The cool air hit her nipples when he pulled away to guide the straps from her shoulders. She was already pert. The soft sound of her bra hitting the wood floor was as delicate as Hal's kisses as they hovered over her neck, up her jaw and then her mouth. He kissed her deeply, giving into an intense and familiar ache that she could taste from him, setting her own yearning to fire. She curved her hand around his ribs to the tight muscles of his back, reveling in the smooth feel of his skin. Hal's fingers were trailing slowly back across her ribs as she followed the hard line of his spine to his low back, attempting to goad him closer. When his touch reached the softening curve just under her breast, she trembled. Even with their chests pressed and straining against each other, she wanted more of him. She wanted all of him.

Hal was orbiting his touch in shrinking circles. But before he reached the center, his hand pulled away. Alex moaned at the loss. But then he moved, lowering his face, and she felt his breath just over her left bud. All he was doing was breathing and she wanted to heave her breast to his mouth, demand that he take it. _Take her_. He began to touch her again, his hand contacting solidly with her thigh, his fingers wrapping around it, and then Alex _did_ heave herself into his mouth. He sucked gently, an appeasement before his lips left her again. She growled in frustration and reached for him, knowing she'd find him hard under his shorts. But he had removed those as well. She was startled as her fingers wrapped over his bare skin.

Arching into her grasp, he shifted to meet her mouth once more, his hand trailing up her thigh. As his fingers lightly brushed over the fabric of her panties, he sucked at her bottom lip hungrily. She gasped into his mouth and his dick pulsed, heavy and wanting, but Hal slowed again. He was naught but a shadow, a silhouette of darker darkness in the night. Poised, she could feel his breath, mouth close to hers. He kissed her chin as a small farewell, then she felt him edge down. Another brief appeasement for her other breast. She stroked him, trying to urge him back, but he moved further away and slipped from her grasp. His lips gently sucked at the skin just above her navel as his fingers edged past the band of her undies. _God yes._ Hal pulled the material clear and free of her hips, coaxing her onto her back as his fingers slid down her legs painfully slow. Even his touch at her ankles was sensual, tingling with focus. She searched for him, wound her fingers through his hair and bracketed his torso with her knees, pleading with movement for him to just _enter her already_. A soft fingertip circled her knee, then lightly brushed the delicate skin along the backside before gently dropping her leg to his side.

With fluttery anticipation she realized what he was doing when she felt his breath over her thigh. A kiss, his tongue tasting her skin and then down. The fullness of his lips against her nearly made her come. She tightened her fingers and clung to strands of his hair as if she would fall apart otherwise. Confident and assured, his tongue entered her. Alex had to stop herself from crying out. She recalled the power of his pull when he drank from her. _This was. Oh. God._ He wasn't merely tasting, he was feasting on her, drinking her without blood. Alex was lost in it just as surely as he was lost in her. It could have been moments or eternity. His breath brushed her clitoris, a slender finger slipped inside, then another, coaxing. Alex came hard, exploding over the edge and spasming into his grip.

When he released her and sat up, Alex recognized the hitch in his chest as he struggled to control himself. She swallowed, coming down and breathing hard. She started to draw close her thighs, but his hands stopped her, thumbs pressing into her flesh sharply.

"We're not finished," he said huskily, his voice strained, and Alex faltered. The entire time they had been together, she had _never_ been forced to stop him. He had always kept his control, pulling back or slowing down if he needed. But he also had never before attempted what he just had. In the darkness, Alex realized she had no way of knowing if his fangs were unsheathed.

Alex prepared herself, tightening with a coiled energy. They had discussed the risk, and even though it seemed he couldn't really hurt her, she would shock him if she had to. It was more for his protection than hers. If Hal were to succumb, her blood wouldn't appease him, merely incite.

 _Or not..._ Instead of teeth piercing through skin, she felt the hard knob of his cock slide into her with slick ease. He buried himself in her to the hilt and she groaned. _Loudly_. He cupped his hand over her mouth, making her remember the dream, stifling the screams of the girl at the Gardens. But then Hal's hand retreated from her mouth, trailed gently down her throat with practiced concentration to her clavicle, across her breast and down her ribs. The movement of his hips turned achingly slow, tiny teases at their lovemaking. He cupped her thigh, guiding her up with restrained strength and her breath caught with the exquisite pleasure the adjustment induced. Trusting him, she tilted her hips to meet his thrust. She was rewarded with another deliciously long stroke. _God how he filled her_. She must have made another moan because he released her thigh to drop his stomach against hers as he pushed into her. He tasted of sex when he muffled her moans with a kiss, sweet and bright. She returned the kiss, tried to deepen it, but he pulled back. His mouth felt different, fuller but constrained. With a shudder, she realized that in the dark, he _was_ fucking her with his fangs out. Her heart stuttered in momentary panic, but he hadn't tried to bite her. He still _felt_ as though he was in control.

They hadn't been able to go running in weeks, yet Alex knew his resolve from turning down blood in London still held. Contact between them had _seemed_ to increase in ease for him ever since, as if their bond was lending him strength. Another languishing stroke and Alex found his hand. She wound her fingers through his, and then, her hips in line with the slow rhythm of his, she pushed her tongue into his mouth. Flicking against one sharp tip, she let him know that she _knew_. Hal slammed into her at the contact, pulsing and instantly close to coming, then strained to pull away. She tightened her grip on his hand and held the kiss, holding him to her. _It was okay_. As long as he didn't try to bite her it _all was okay_.

Hal's breath shook ragged and rent, then he squeezed her hand and groaned. He let himself go and released into her with forceful abandon. Alex felt her own orgasm rise and crest into an electric pressure a second time. She gripped him tightly through their throes and not once did she feel his teeth.

When their shaky breathing had slowed and Hal had sank against her, she uncurled her fingers from his; brought her hand to stroke the side of his face in the darkness. "What just happened?" she finally asked. He didn't answer her, so she pressed. "You weren't actually going to, were you?"

"No," his admission was hushed.

She cupped his chin, caressing his jaw. "So what then?"

Hal was reluctant. "It is what happens... if I let myself become..." he trailed off awkwardly.

"Turned on?" Alex laughed. "And that hasn't already happened 'bout eighty times now?"

Hal was silent. She couldn't even see his expression in the dark. "You've still being holding back, haven't ye?"

"A little," he finally answered, kissing her lightly.

Alex caught his kiss, held it, then nipped at his lip. 'Oh 'ave you you now?" She nuzzled his neck, teasingly. Then she whispered in his ear, "Let's make it happen again."

* * *

  
Careful of the latch, Adam Jacobs slipped from his house into the cool evening air. It was a dark night, the fat chunk of moon barely risen. He had left Yvonne sleeping, but couldn't find sleep himself. The conversation from supper had unsettled him, even though he had tried to play it off.

The white garden path that snaked through the heather was barely illuminated. He used it to navigate to the hulking shape of the boathouse that now doubled as a werewolf pen once a month. Sneaking around the side, he paused to give one last look at the house. His love was in the satisfied embrace of sleep, Christa's light was out, as was the light in the guest room.

With a relieved exhale, Adam brought forth his smuggled cigarette and dug his lighter out of his pocket. With a flick of the lighter, the flame sprung to life and a pale face flashed in his peripheral vision. Adam nearly lost his shit.

"Christa! Jesus H. on a fucking pogo stick!"

"Thought you quit, lob-knob," she hissed at him.

"I did," Adam flicked the flame again and lit the tip of the smoke, taking a long drag. The small ember glow cast light against her silhouette. "What are you doing out here?"

"I couldn't sleep. Figured I'd come get some fresh air. Which coincidentally, you're ruining."

"Wait, don't tell me - the idea of bomb-toting werewolves gets you all hot and bothered," Adam joked and took another drag, which he respectfully blew out sideways.

"No, it was your friend actually, if you must know."

"What? Well, he does have that, you know," Adam gestured at his face with his cigarette.

"They're sodding having sex up there. And I thought getting it through the wall was bad enough..." Christa sighed.

"What?"

"Sex, Adam. You know ALL about it."

"No, I mean, how is that even possible?" Adam sounded serious for once.

"Hey, I know he's like some vampire _antique_ but he looked more than fully operational to me. What were you thinking with those jeans? Jesus."

Adam snickered, "Knew that'd rile you up. But no, really. Not him, _her_. Ghosts can't have sex. Trust me -"

"You've tried? For goodness sake Adam. You'd try anything that moved. Maybe you just didn't try hard enough cuz it's all sighs and no talk up there. They are definitely having sex."

Almost as if to prove her point, a carnal, _female_ moan pierced the quiet, heard clearly through the open window.

"See?" Christa whispered. "Bloody irritating. At least if you're out here then _you_ two are done."

"For now," Adam jibed distractedly. He was cocking his head to listen, straining his ears. He didn't believe it. Another moan, softer, muffled. "Well shag me sideways." Hal Yorke was getting it off with a ghost.


	13. Back to the Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

_It had happened again._

And now, she was pretty sure she knew why the cottage they teleported to was no longer there. Hal had burned it down. Never, in all her life, had she experienced a nightmare so graphically horrid. So _real._ Alex sighed with the acceptance that the images, first last night's visit to the Botanical Gardens, and now the gory aftermath of an utterly decimating kill, couldn't be her own.

Like light through a hairpin crack, Hal's subconscious, either his dreams or his memory, had started to leak into her. And it was _all_ _her fault._ Using his memories to rent-a-ghost had been her suggestion. And now, she didn't know what to do.

She was pressed close to him, feeling their connection everywhere they touched. If he found out she was having vampiric nightmares, regardless of the source, he would blame himself and undoubtedly attempt distance to cure her. Alex cringed at the thought. She knew him well enough to know that much, at least. She already knew he had _centuries_ of a horrific past. The fact that he kept trying to fight it had allowed her to look beyond that history. It wasn't pleasant watching it play out like a horror film, but as long as they were just memories, she could bear it.

What terrified her was if they _were_ _dreams_ , the imaginings of his subconscious. As much as he fought against it during the day, she supposed it could be possible. And, she knew he had nightmares. They had been sleeping together for two months now. There had been plenty of times she felt him tear out of sleep and leave the bed to retreat to his routines in the middle of the night. But both last night, and now, that hadn't been the case. Next to her, Hal was quiet and still, having fallen right back to sleep with his arm draped over to hold her close.

If only there were a way to find out, to confirm her suspicions about the dreams before she asked him. Last night had been another step, she thought. He had let go just a little bit further, in almost an acceptance of himself and who he could be with her. Her body hummed at the thought. She was loathe to ruin it.

The windows of the attic room were low, eye level with the bed. She lay in his arms, but her gaze was far. She watched the darkness ebb from the world. The grey light crept across the land illuminating pockets of fog amidst the green. When she'd had sleepless nights alive, she would toss and turn with a restless energy. But now she could be truly still without even thinking of it. Alex watched the orange glow of sunrise crest over the horizon, shattering the last of darkness.

She could feel Hal starting to wake by sensing the subtle shift of his breath. She began circling little patterns over his arm and he reciprocated, his hand lightly caressing over her belly. Tucking his fingers under her ribs to hold her close, he sighed sleepily into her hair then warmly kissed the back of her neck. He seemed peaceful, content. Not plagued by nightmares.

Softly, almost the voice of someone else, Alex asked, "Why did you come here, before?"

"To Grimsay?" he queried, still coming awake. His pause was lengthy before he answered, his breath brushing her skin. "The island was more isolated than it is now. Even after hiring a boat to travel this far, the land could only be reached by fording a channel at low tide. Once you did, you'd have been greeted by the primarily non-human residents."

"Vampires?"

"Worse. Sheep. Filthy creatures," Hal muttered but his amusement edged through.

"You came here to be alone?"

"I came here to go dry," his answer turning to stone serious.

The images of her nightmare rose unbidden; wet blood sickled under fingernails and gore in the firelight. But instead of addressing the dreams, what she said surprised even her, "I felt it. The hunger. It was part of your memory." Hal had been tracing her shoulder with a casual fingertip but froze. "It isn't always like that… is it?"

"No. That's… Jesus," he cursed and pulled away from her, turning onto his back. Alex instantly regretted telling him, but in a way her suspicions were confirmed about how he'd react to the nightmares. She turned over on the mattress slowly, scooting to lay on her stomach with her head propped in her hands so she could see his face. He was staring into the beam overhead, silent and pensive before he finally spoke. "I regret you had to experience that. I did not know it would work that way. If I had… well. There were not many other memories we could have used. I knew the house would be gone, but was unsure if anyone had rebuilt it." He turned, facing her with a scrutinous gaze that Alex tried to match with neutrality. "The intensity fades, eventually." He softened and kissed her shoulder, changing the topic without really answering her. "I don't think they're up yet. I haven't heard anyone."

"They're not," Alex confirmed. She hadn't heard anything but birdsong.

"Another shower would be prudent. Hopefully without disturbing them," Hal mused while he started to sit up, then paused. "Would you mind granting a favour?"

"What's that?"

"Would you be so kind to retrieve my _actual_ clothes? I fear we won't make it to Harris, otherwise."

Alex laughed and ruffled his hair as he made to leave the bed. "Sure thing. Though, I may replace your entire wardrobe later. Unfinished business and all."

Hal looked absolutely mortified.

"I'm jesting!" She punched his shoulder light-heartedly. "Off with ye!"

He stood, still miffed but took the blanket with him smugly, leaving Alex exposed, briefly. With a scowl, she disappeared only to reappear, dressed and booted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What was this about making it to Harris?" she teased. Hal rolled his eyes at her bemusedly. Wrapping the blanket around himself and taking the bundle of Adam's clothes, he descended the stairs.

Alex gathered up the rest of the linens and rent-a-ghosted with them to the laundry. As she set the sheets on the washer and retrieved Hal's now-dry attire, she heard the shower come on. The house was still quiet, so with a quirky smile, she rent-a-ghosted into the washroom. Hal was just stepping under the water in the tiled bath. After leaving his clothing on the counter, she teleported out of hers, and into the tub. He stood with the steaming spray hitting his chest and a smile tilted at the edges of this closed eyes. She tucked her arms under his to wrap around his chest, pressing her body to his. He leaned into her with a small sigh, but when her hands began to drift, he cleared his throat.

"Harris, Alex. Ferry to catch. Focus."

She laughed but knew he was right. After one lingering kiss just below his ear, she disappeared.

* * *

 

  
Breakfast was a short affair. Yvonne had to travel south for her shift at the Museum. In her cloak, hat and gloves she looked even more like Julie Andrews. Alex nearly expected her to burst into song. Instead, she bid farewell to them at the door, "One of our first school tours. Do come and visit again sometime, would you?"

Christa had an online studies course to log into, so only Adam remained to see them off to the ferry. Walking with them out to the car, he laughed at the sight of it, "Now there's a hot island getaway car. Where's your Mercedes?"

"Don't ask," Hal grumbled, stopping all inquiry with a glare.

Adam shrugged. "Now you know the main road splits -"

"Yes," Hal stopped the lad's directions. North was north.

Alex leaned against the car and chuckled, teasing, "Mr. Know-it-all knows where we're going. He used 'the Google.'"

Adam raised an eyebrow and grinned, "Welcome to the century my man." Hal shook his head with an eyeroll and retrieved the keys from his pocket. Adam shuffled awkwardly for a moment, then slapped the roof of the little car, finally mustering the bravado to ask Hal, "Hey, can I talk to you for a moment before you go? Private-like?" He gave a nod towards Alex who just raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest.

Hal nodded, and they proceeded to walk a ways up the road. Once out of earshot, Hal demanded, "What?"

"How are you doing it?" Adam asked.

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Doing Alex. She's sexy and all... but she's mist. Sno-babe at best."

Hal balked, "Adam, that's between Alex and -"

"No, I really need to know. You've got to tell me."

"I don't need to tell you anything."

"Is it an Old One thing? If so, that's fine. But if it's not, I want to know how to do it too."

"Won't your wife disapprove?"

"Not if I was doing it for her."

"I really don't think -" Hal started, but Adam intervened with a quick wave of his hand.

"Look. I love her. I really fucking do. I can't imagine going on with this shit without her. But, eventually, we're gonna have a problem. She ages. And I... well, you know," he shrugged.

"Yvonne may not linger as a ghost," Hal stated.

"I know, I know. But if she did. If there was some way for her to stay. Wouldn't you want to know?"

"Adam…" Hal began, uneasy with the topic. "Alex and I... it isn't something I can explain, or give you a recipe for. Not even the Old Ones knew why it happens. Sometimes, a spirit anchors onto a vampire who has drunk from them. Alex is tangible to me. All I can tell you is that I drank her blood after she became a ghost."

"So, if Yvonne dies and then refuses her door, I'd just have to drink from her dead body?"

"It would be a gamble and at a huge cost to you. We don't even know if succubi get doors," Hal pondered, then paused. "The cravings - you're immune while under her influence, correct?"

"Yeah, mostly," Adam shrugged, playing off the blessing.

"If you were to lose that influence, and drink again the outcome would be far worse than if you merely lost her influence. Right now, you're clean. The hunger is easier to maintain if you remain that way."

"But if there were a chance... I'd do it. It wouldn't matter if I failed."

Hal raised an eyebrow and stated seriously, "It would matter to those you killed."

"No, if it came to that, there would only be one death. I'm far too weak to stick around for the lute, mate."

A deflated chirp of a honk came from the Renault. Alex was leaning against it and mimed at them, pointing at an imaginary watch. Hal checked the time, then returned Adam's gaze. "We really must be going. You have the house number, and my email. Get in touch if you need."

"Likewise bro," Adam switched out of his melancholy instantly. "And really - come visit again. It's been grand. Just, you might want to get your own place. That ghost of yours is tangibly loud."

* * *

 

Steam rose off the little paper cup of espresso. Winter was on its way and Spike was wishing he had thought to wear his longer coat. As it were, he slipped a free hand into the pocket of his trousers after leaving a tip for the barista. She was pleasantly flirtatious and Spike could have probably gotten her number. However, he remained distant, as always. No sense bringing yet another bright young thing into his world. Rosanna inevitably always found a way to have them killed.

Spike sipped his coffee, the warmth flooding down briefly before dissipating. He had left his maker still deeply asleep in a blood doze in his bed. She had dropped by his flat early this morning, seeking information about Turner, and the bomb with demands for what he knew. Spike had placated her in his typical way - sixty years off and on and she still seemed to enjoy his charms - but he increasingly grew tired of playing the part.

Which was all he ever seemed to do these days.

Spike passed through the bustle at Euston Square and walked the few blocks to the post office. As he turned on Drummond Street the stale scent of yesterday's curry from the shop on the corner permeated his senses and roiled his stomach. Spike quickened his pace. It was just after eight and he knew his delivery would be waiting. Spike finished his coffee and tossed the cup into a waste bin, leaving both hands free to open the door and retrieve his key. Only one sleepy-eyed employee was surfing his computer from behind the counter; he paid no mind to Spike. The little key was kept separate from Spike's regular set, tucked safe in a hidden sleeve of his wallet. He used it to open the rented parcel box.

They never left a note or evidence of the transaction of any kind; inside was merely one small brown paper wrapped package. Spike knew it would contain an envelope, and a wax-sealed metal flask just as before. The payment for selling out his boss, and possibly himself, seemed dwarfed by the empty space.

* * *

 

Mornings like this were proving difficult. Allison left one last lingering kiss on Tom's arm, then tried to pull free of it. He only tightened his grip with a sleepy yawn, so she swatted at him, which made him chuckle.

"A'ight, a'ight," he teased as he let her go.

Freed, Allison turned, her soft, brown eyes meeting his with a warm smile. She planted a kiss on his nose. "I'll see you tonight, tak?"

"Yeah," Tom said, watching her go and pulling the covers tighter in round himself as she left to shower and prepare for class.

Normally, he'd spend his day off from the hotel catching up with his coursework. Today he was going to enjoy a lay in, then return to visit his new friends. But he found he couldn't return to sleep. As he listened to Allison moving about downstairs his brain was brimming with all the things he could teach to young Begley and his pack. But really, Tom knew he was beating round the bush of what he'd say when Hal got back.

Thinking of his friend, and the truth he now knew about him still made Tom's stomach tug with confusion. The old hatred for all things vampire was stirring, but Tom knew it wasn't that simple. Hal wasn't an average vampire, nor had he chosen to remain engaged in the wrongdoings of his past. Tom had come to regard Hal as family, and he still did. The rub was that Tom's idea of family didn't have room for secrets, however justified.

Tom knew he just needed to talk it through with his friend. Maybe if he could just come to understand a little better why Hal had kept that part of his past guarded. In the meantime, Tom figured he may as well make himself useful.

* * *

 

" _Without love, where would you be now? Withou looo-oooov-oov-ove!_ "

Tangibly loud, Alex crooned along with the chorus on the tinny stereo, one half-laced boot on the dash and the other out the open window of the Renault. She didn't seem to know the rest of the words, so hummed along pleasantly, her fingers tapping the windowsill. The green countryside swept by, dotted with inlets and the flight of shorebirds. They had crossed the causeway from Grimsay to North Uist with nary another car. Reluctantly, Hal had to admit it was a pleasant drive, despite the suspected unreliability of their transport. The sun was breaking through the heavy morning marine layer and he checked his watch. They had ten minutes to spare. The white berth of the ferry could just be seen, docked in the slipway.

After sitting through a short queue for the ticket booth, Hal drove the little car onto the ship as instructed. Several of the other cars parked in orderly rows were obvious commuters, the occupants reading the news or already tipped back in their seats to nap. Hal ensured the Renault was in park and unfastened his safety belt as Alex disappeared. She reappeared shortly, peering down into the water from the loading platform just past the safety rope. Hal shook his head but leaned across the seat to roll up the window she had left down.

He locked his door, though probably needn't have bothered, and proceeded to the nearest metal stairwell. He wanted to get topside and upwind of the humans on board before the ship set sail. A ferry crossing was far too much of an opportunity for his kind. _Captive prey along easy dumping grounds_ … Hal sighed, forced the old patterns of his thoughts away and climbed the stairs. Alex met him at the top, holding the metal storm door open.

"Where to Captain?" she jested.

"Topside bow," he answered bluntly and she raised an eyebrow, letting him pass. Hal walked ahead of her and up the second outer stairwell. Inside were rows of seats with passengers and families spread. Outside on the upper deck were people as well, but Hal hoped the morning was just chill enough that they would turn in before long.

The horn blast rumbled through his sternum when he reached the prow, the ships engines kicking on with a low vibration. Leaning against the white painted metal railing and looking back towards the dock, Hal dropped his hands into his pockets. The action wouldn't conserve much warmth, but brushing his fingers against the smooth ivory in his pocket was steadying. Two young children were chasing themselves in circles while their mother was taking pictures of the dock with her camera phone. Hal kept a wary eye on her until she put the camera away and went after the children, shouting after them not to run.

Alex leaned on the railing next to Hal, face to the wind and watching the slate-grey water churn and froth as the ship pushed ahead. She took a full and satisfying breath of the brisk and tangy sea air, enjoying the waves and the lumbering sense of movement as the boat pushed away. The dock and the island were quickly receding. Whipped by the wind, Hal's hair was tousled while he watched the few other passengers up top with them. Soon, the family departed for a lower deck and they were alone except for another couple locked in conversation a fair length away.

"You need another haircut," she smiled then dropped her arm over his shoulders.

"Leo always used to do it right before the full moon."

"Every month?"

"Every month."

"Nearly time then," Alex answered and Hal was silent. He had been distant, lost in his thoughts most of the morning. She had tried to remain good-natured, preserving the cheer and connection of the night before, but worry was creeping in. Their impending confrontation with this vampire from Hal's past could turn dangerous. Richard Turner certainly had proven to be, and he was someone Hal had kept contact with. They were heading to Harris neither expected nor announced, and Alex feared for his safety, and hers. In the span of just one day she had started keeping secrets from him, and she didn't like the nagging sense of doubt it was causing her.

The harbour was nothing but thin white lines of masts when Hal turned into the wind, squinting to look at the expanse of water ahead of them. Alex hefted herself up to perch precariously on the railing, her boots hooking over the lower rail and he shot her a look.

"What? Not like I'll die if I fall. Which I won't, mind you," she rebutted.

He rolled his eyes skywards, but let her be. Alex held onto the rail and leaned her weight into her hands. She didn't yet want to talk to him about the dreams, but she realized she should ask him about the man in the Door. He knew far more about these things than she did. Maybe he could relieve at least one of her worries.

"You're still shielding me, right?"

"Shielding?" Brought out of his thoughts, Hal cocked his head at her questionably.

"From the Doors, and the agents on the other side?"

"I believe so…" Hal paused, "as long as our bond remains. Why do you ask?"

"I saw one yesterday. At the hospital. And he totally saw me."

"Through a Door?"

"Yeah. A little boy passed on. The Morris dude pointed right at me after he went through."

"The who?"

"The man on the other side. When I died, I thought they were all evil Morris dancers."

"No wonder you refused your Door," Hal huffed amusedly at her comparison, but his expression quickly returned to serious. He furrowed his brow, then softly placed his hand on the bare skin of her chest, palm flattened just under her jacket. He closed his eyes, seeming to feel her heartbeat, then pulled away. "They can't come through. Nor can they find you again," he assured, then met her eyes. "But now they know of you, so will be looking."

"Well shite."

Hal merely shrugged however. "Just stay away from Doors."

"Maggie - the weird ghost I mentioned? I think she forced it closed on him."

"That works too," Hal smiled. "They're generally benign unless a ghost is weakened. We had a radio ban at the barber shop for months until they finally realised Pearl was having none of it." Hal returned to leaning on the railing, his shoulder brushing against her. "She ended up smashing Leo's Murphy against the cooktop before they gave up on her."

"They normally try to come after ghosts?"

"Yes, by using the Doors of others to coax you through."

Alex shivered, pulling her jacket in tighter around herself, "Any other Afterlife specials I'm missing out on?"

Hal's eyes cast out to the expansive sea. "It is more of what you have, than what you are missing. And that, I hope you never need to know."


	14. Vampire Annihilation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Warm wishes for the holidays everyone. It may be another two weeks before I scrape you off the cliff I'm about to leave you on. Ever so sorry. (#givesevils) In my defense, this was originally two chapters. Hope you enjoy the longer read!_
> 
> * * *

Life on the Hebridean Isles appeared to be entirely dictated by the schedules of tide and ferry. A queue was already forming for the passage to the Isle of Skye when Hal and Alex reached Tarbert. Alex was certain it was the only traffic congestion the little town ever encountered. After departing from their own ferry and driving a winding road north, they arrived into a snarl at the bridge that separated South & North Harris. Hal's frustration filled the tiny car even though the queue was cleared quickly. He didn't travel well.

A small school, windows decorated with cut paper jack o'lanterns and flossy cobwebs, sat between a crossroads and Hal slowed the car. Most of the traffic continued along the road curving to the east but Hal seemed unsure.

"Thought you knew where you were going, smartass," Alex teased. "Why not stop for directions?" she added with a flair of pragmatism which Hal retorted with a glare. "Fine. At least stop the car so I can rent-a-ghost in to bump a map?" He retained his scowl at her suggestion and kept driving. Alex shook her head and leaned dramatically against the window.

Whitewashed buildings of unknown age paced the road in clusters that grew in spaciousness as the bay widened north. Hal peered at the few road signs they passed, printed in a mix of Gaelic and English. The few other cars ahead turned off towards their various destinations and soon they were one of the only vehicles travelling past town. Alex nearly goaded him again except he brightened. "Huisinish, there," Hal gestured triumphantly as he turned the car onto a single lane road.

Once they were barely two miles out of town, Alex's unnecessary breath was taken away. She was on the coastal side and privy to some of the most spectacular scenery she had ever seen. The entire morning had been a beautiful and pleasant holiday drive, but this was heavenly. Sunlight reflected through the heavy marine layer that still hugged eddies and lowlands. The hunkered landmass across the inlet was glowing indigo as it protruded from the mists. Overhead, spots of blue broke through the clouds, contrasting with the green that rolled away from either side of the winding road. The water shimmered as it was revealed between the slopes of the hillocks, and purple thistle dotted the roadside. The entire view was like a clichéd watercolor. All it needed was a castle.

"Why haven't you ever come up here?" Hal asked after several miles, breaking her reverie.

Alex pulled herself away from the window and shrugged. "There was a school educational trip once, but I skived off. Didn't know what I was missing I s'pose," she admitted then turned back to enjoy the view. Hal navigated the little car smoothly through the twists, turns and dips in the road.

A grey tower rose out of the hills. As the castle came into view Alex guffawed.

"No effing way. That's not your friend's place, is it?"

Hal considered momentarily but then shook his head, "No, I believe the address is nearer to the end of the road."

The castle, turrets and all, loomed over them as they passed, though Alex noted it had modern windows. "Oh God," she exclaimed as the thought occurred to her. " _You've_ probably lived in one of those."

"A castle? They're best to be avoided really. Bloody drafty."

Alex cocked an eyebrow at Hal, not sure if he was serious. She caught the edge of a smile though and punched his arm good-naturedly. "Oh come on. You've totally rocked a castle."

"Maybe," he neither admitted nor denied as they drove through the weather-worn archway of the castle gate. The road began to climb once more up and away from the lushly landscaped grounds. "This one is a hotel now. We can return sometime, if you would like."

Alex grinned, "Aw, that would be sweet. You still owe me a real date after all," she teased. "Hey - maybe it's my business to haunt a castle?"

"They usually already are," Hal declared with a smirk. The little car sputtered a bit on the ascent, kicking out a cloud of smoke and Hal downshifted. At the rise the engine shook and caught.

"How much further you think?" Alex asked, eyeing the gauges.

"Couple of miles." The car sounded better on the downhill. They passed a mile or so in silence as Alex returned her attention to the countryside. Hal hoped the car would last. He knew that eventually this road ended at a public beach, so the address they were seeking couldn't be too much further. Once they spied it, Hal intended to drive past and return on foot. They may be in need of the element of surprise.

* * *

Cookpots clunked and the smell of fire-brewed coffee permeated the air. The car park bustled with campers starting their day. Tom passed two young children - a girl chasing a boy with bubbles, gleefully giggling - and he smiled as he took a long lungful of air. It was good to get out and about.

Tom's stride slowed when he came 'round the pack's caravan. Their camp was quiet, coals gone cold, and a fine layer of dew still sat on the chairs. At first Tom thought that maybe they were all having a lie-in, but his senses couldn't detect any other werewolves nearby. They weren't here.

Which is why he was completely startled when the caravan's door creaked open and out stepped Dominic Rook. He paused briefly at the sight of Tom, one eyebrow jutted to a sharp point, then he sighed and casually latched the door behind him. Rook stepped onto the grass with his polished shoes, dressed in his usual stiff grey suit, which struck Tom as absurd here in the car park.

"What you doing here, Mr. Rook?" Tom called out.

Rook procured a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands, "One could ask of you the same question Thomas. I was not aware you were acquainted with the Gwedores."

"I am now. They know you were in there?"

"No, of course not. I am merely following up for our Irish division. There were reports the Gwedores had left their shores. I was confirming. Werewolves away from their home territory, and safe places for transformation are dangerous. We have begun monitoring the Gwedores, and Mr. O'Meara."

Tom stuffed his hands into his pockets. It appeared Rook was not aware of Begley, and he wasn't about to tell him. Something made Tom want to protect that knowledge if he could, though he wasn't quite sure why. Rook turned away to wipe the door handle with his handkerchief.

"You don't gotta."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, cuz I'm keeping an eye on them now meself. If they're still here come time I'll take em out to my woods. You don't need to worry yourself, specially with the bombs and all that."

Rook appeared momentarily taken aback, "You would assist us?"

"Well, sure. You helped Hal and us, didn't ya?"

Rook kept his stiff posture, his ice blue eyes locked onto Tom's. Tom met his examination with openness. There wasn't any indication in Rook's features that he had come to a conclusion when he stated, "Very well." He tucked the cloth back into a pocket. "That would be most… supportive."

* * *

Sharp and biting, the industrial contrast of a power saw broke through the quiet island morning. A turn of the bend revealed a modest-sized house, whitewashed and classic against the blue water and sandy shore beyond. There was a clatter of wood striking wood, and Hal slowed his approach. Thankfully, the wind was in their favour coming off the water and he caught a scent that confirmed they had arrived at the right place. _Werewolf._

Assured, Hal beckoned for Alex to follow him around the side of the cottage. They traversed a little path, overgrown with moss-covered stepping stones and tall grasses. As they entered the back garden that faced the water, the piercing sound of an electric blade on a board broke the silence once more.

Alex observed an extremely fit, dark-haired man in work gloves who was leaning over, absorbed in the measurements he was taking. He was wearing a simple tee shirt which showed coiled muscles on a lithe frame, like a martial arts fighter, or a dancer. A wide cuff of leather wrapped around his left wrist, peeking clear of his work gloves, giving Alex the impression that her former assumption was accurate.

Behind him, the bare frame of a deck sat half built. Littering the ground were shavings and a few split boards. _Easy stakes, close at hand._ Alex wanted to reach for Hal, to stop him, but he had already continued a few steps ahead of her. He paused when a door opened, and another man, tall, fine-boned and beautifully handsome, strode outside with a glass carafe in hand. At this distance she couldn't tell which was the vampire and which the werewolf.

Hal had gone very still at the sight of this second man, frozen at the edge of the garden. Some slight shift of the breeze made the first fellow look up, his gentle eyes slitting into a threatening glare. He straightened, and the man carrying the carafe stopped walking and turned to see what had caught his companion's attention. His breath clearly caught as his eyes widened. The carafe he was holding crashed to the ground, contents spilling as the heavy glass rolled away with a spin.

The carpenter picked up one of the wooden boards, readying to brandish it as a weapon if need be, but his eyes flicked to his partner, who was still frozen. "Carl?" he asked with a cautionary tone.

But Carl had taken a hesitant step forward, gaze locked on Hal with a strangely haunted and disbelieving expression.

" _Salut_ , Carl," Hal greeted softly, breaking the silent tension.

"But… you are... you died... _decades ago_." Carl's voice was just as soft, hesitant to shatter the moment.

"It didn't stick," Hal answered plainly.

The other vampire remained rooted, examining Hal from across the garden. When he did finally move, he crossed the span in only a few strides, sweeping Hal into a tight embrace. "God! This is -" Carl kissed Hal on either cheek in a very quick and familial fashion, then held him by the shoulders at arms length. "You're dry again. Oh sodding Hell - you _staged_ it didn't you?" Carl hugged Hal again, and Alex stood back, flummoxed. To Alex's disbelief, Hal was actually returning this man's embrace, although guardedly.

"It is good to see you too," Hal smiled, relief evident in the way tension had left his shoulders. Breaking free, he held an arm out to Alex, "Carl, this is Alex."

Alex held her hand out as the werewolf set down his board and cautiously approached them with a dubious expression. Carl shook her hand enthusiastically and then raised an eyebrow. "You're a ghost."

"Yeah, I've pretty much noticed that by now."

"And Scottish! Sorry... its just, you're so... present."

"Er... thanks?"

Carl's companion came to stand next to him, expectantly. A fine flutter of panic crossed Carl's features, but then was gone. With increasing confidence, he made introductions. "This is Davi, my partner. Davi, this is Lord Henry Yorke."

Hal extended his hand disarmingly, "Just Hal."

At the introduction, Davi cocked his head curiously. "If you are the Hal I have heard of," he stated in a rich and melodic accent, "then I believe it is an honour." Not leaving space for denial, Davi accepted the handshake, then pulled Hal into a quick hug and a kiss on one cheek. Hal was somewhat flustered at the contact from this unknown werewolf, but hid it well. Davi retracted with warmth in his dark eyes.

"We didn't exactly announce our move…" Carl started warily. "Please excuse my concern, but I must ask how you found me."

"Familiar question," Hal answered with a mysterious hint of a smile. "It appears we have our Lazarus tendencies in common. I also thought you were dead. The discovery that you were not is a long story."

Carl shook his head, still in disbelief. "How could you even have known? No one has heard from you in what? Six decades?" Carl's expression quickened with reasoning. " _Richard_. He knew, didn't he?" Davi shot Carl a glance at the name. "Did Richard tell you we were here?"

"No. We've… fallen out of sorts lately."

"But, if Richard didn't send you, then who did?"

"Like I said, it is a long story. May I trouble you for some time to tell it this morning?"

"Certainly. We're more than curious. Davi thought we would be untraceable here."

"And for most, you probably are. We should sit down."

"Of course," Carl nodded. He still hadn't taken his eyes off Hal but flickered his gaze briefly to Davi. The werewolf caught the glance as he straightened from gathering the fallen carafe, and gave a small nod after the barest of pauses.

"Please, come inside."

* * *

"Tom!" Begley's voice rang down the lane as the boy launched into a run. Tom had just gotten the fire going and was warming up somewhat when the pack returned on foot. Maud and Conal were lost in a conversation which abruptly ended at Begley's announcement.

"Ello there!" Tom smiled as Begley stopped just short of running right into him. "Where were you guys?"

"Tom, hello. We didn't know you would be here so early," Maud greeted.

Begley tapped on his leg. "You're gonna come too, right?"

"Hey there now Beg, Tom might have other things to do," Irving shushed his brother.

"But he'd be perfect!"

"I believe Begley is trying to invite you to join us tonight Tom."

"We were just debating that now, weren't we?" Conal gave a sideways glance to Maud, seeking approval. She met her partner's glance with a sigh, then came to sit in the empty chair across from Tom.

"You see Tom," she started, placing her hands solemnly in her lap. "We weren't entirely honest with you. About why we're here."

Tom furrowed his brow and looked between Conal and Maud. Irving was doing the same with obvious surprise. Begley had turned away slightly from Tom, dropping his hands in his pockets and biting his lip with a guilty expression. Conal approached the child to place a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder before returning his gaze to Tom.

"Your loyalties lie more with the wolf than you realize. Which is why I believe you should be given the choice, despite the company you keep. Come with us tonight. As our guest."

"Come with you to what, exactly?" Tom's question hung in the air, unanswered. Foreboding travelled in a shiver up the back of his neck as Conal's weathered face cracked into a wry smile.

"Tonight is to be a _Route,_ young master McNair. The first this land has seen in nigh o'er a century."

* * *

The interior of Carl & Davi's cottage was a rich burst of colour at odds with the plain, whitewashed facade. Fabrics, brightly woven with an South American flavour, accented every corner and even adorned one of the walls. The house was a modest size but modernly refinished. A stone-topped bar counter separated the living space from the kitchen and the old timber beams that spanned the ceiling made the spaces feel more expansive than they were. A polished piano, reflective black, perched near a bay window facing out to the sea.

"Can I offer you anything? Tea? We have Samovar Kusmi," Carl stepped into the kitchen and opened a cupboard. Without waiting for a response, he took down a silver teapot. "We were due for lunch after Davi finished this section. Please, make yourselves at home," he insisted.

"Yes, black please. Thank you," Hal acquiesced to Carl's hospitality while perusing a display of carved figurines. They ranged in size and shape but were all made from the same dark wood. The carvings guarded the bookshelf like proud soldiers.

"My most recent distraction. I took up the art in Brazil, after… well." Carl had been staring at Hal with an open fascination before he glanced to Alex, seemingly thinking better of what he may have said. He filled a heavy kettle with water and set it on the cooktop. "You were right. It really does help."

Alex came to to stand next to Hal, a hand naturally falling to his shoulder as she picked up one of the smallest figurines. An egret of some kind, in incredible detail. Even without looking, she could feel Carl's gaze, studying her.

"Do you still practice your letters?" he asked, renewing the conversation.

"A bit. The power is in learning something new however."

Alex hadn't ever seen Hal practice calligraphy, but she supposed he had, in the long span of his lifetime. She had only known him for a few months. He could be a Samurai or master painter for all she knew. Carl lit the burner, the blue flame flaring to life.

"I almost made it through three this time," his admission was familial, and honest. Alex wasn't quite certain what he meant. _Three new skills? Three kettles?_

"Thing is, I've been thinking of you this past year," Carl continued causing Hal to turn from the shelf abruptly and for Alex to dropped her hand from his shoulder. Carl's confession was surprisingly similar to Cutler's, which made him pause.

"I've never known loss like…" Carl started, then sighed, hands resting on the counter. Hal met his eyes, knowing what was coming and wishing he did not. "The monster takes so much. Even something you think you will never give. Something I thought was safe. You told me. You told me it would. I didn't quite believe you."

"It took someone close then?" Hal asked delicately. Carl's only response was to purse his lips, and nod once. "I am truly sorry," Hal's apology was sincere.

 _Carl… is one of the good ones_ , Alex recalled Hal's statement in her head and realized Carl must be like Hal, and Adam. Another dry vampire. No wonder Rook knew they were up here. His Department was watching out for the entire Hebridean Isles.

"But then I found Davi," Carl smiled warmly as the Brazilian joined him in the kitchen, freshly changed out of his sawdusted shirt into a clean one. Davi hooked an arm around Carl's waist and they leaned against each other. Both dark haired and of equal height, but so different. Carl was almost femininely slender whilst Davi had a lanky stockiness.

"Carl claims cupido stayed my arrow, but really I had been too _ébrio_ to aim correct."

"He was drunk. And charming."

"We saved each other, não?"

The two exchanged a smile at their inside joke, in that way that new couples often do. The kettle coming to a boil with a hint of a whistle broke the moment. Carl returned to preparing their tea and Davi stepped around the counter to join them in the living room. He indicated that they should sit at the polished wood dining table.

"Carl enjoys to live dangerously - to be with a lobo who is also a carpenter."

"Did you make this?" Alex asked, taking a seat.

"That I did. It is jacarandá - rosewood, from my home. The most beautiful tree in all the world. Surely, a stunning woman such as you have seen it? The blossoms rain purple and carpet the hillside."

Alex smiled, also charmingly, "I've not the pleasure."

"Like I said, charming," Carl joined them, bearing a tea tray. Hal observed that Carl prepared their tea in the traditional fashion; warming the teapot with a rinse from the kettle, and measuring the leaves before steeping. It was ceremonious, and more properly prepared than Hal had enjoyed at another's hand in a long while. The tray, also made of a rich wood, held four cups and saucers. One of the cups was already bearing a strainer, ready for the pour. He appreciated the consideration given to Alex, albeit her ghostly inability to truly join them with tea.

After placing the tray onto the table, Carl pulled out the chair next to Davi, and opposite Hal. "So," he began. "We have much to discuss, but... Am I correct in sensing you've sought me out for a specific reason?"

Hal nodded, "Indeed. It is wonderful to see you. However," he paused. He hadn't known how Carl would react to his visit, so had prepared several angles of approach. But now, given the immediate honesty of their conversation, Hal was electing to play it straight. He just didn't quite know where to begin.

"He sent you, didn't he?" Carl asked bluntly.

"Who?" Momentarily, Hal wondered if Carl could somehow already know about Rook's department. That certainly would save time.

"Your Mister Snow," Davi answered. "Because of me. We were so careful, but -"

"Creepy got ka-boomed. When will this be old news?" Alex spoke bluntly and Hal inwardly groaned at her penchant for tactlessness. Both Carl and Davi's expressions had turned confused. Hal cleared his throat and returned his gaze to Carl.

"Fifty-five years ago, I staged my death to defect, and have been in hiding ever since. Alex is speaking truth. Snow was killed, along with nearly all of the Old Ones, several months ago."

The silence spread out from Hal's statement across the table, until Carl broke it by reaching to pour the tea. "You better start from the beginning."

For the second time in as many days, Hal and Alex recounted their tale. At the end, Hal finished his tea, then admitted, "Part of your concern is correct. I was sent to speak with Davi. We need to know what is happening. We need to know how to stop it."

Davi had been silent through the whole tale; listening and accepting their story as fact without raising a single question. With fingers delicately resting on his teacup, he shook his head and spoke with reluctance. "This thing… there is no stopping it."

"Then at least tell us what you know. There must be someone we could talk to - someone who is responsible?"

"The _responsibility_ was next to be mine," Davi huffed in irony. "The leader is my father."

Hal tilted his head in quizzical surprise. "You were _born_ a werewolf?"

"I was born _to_ a werewolf. In our culture, that may as well have been the same thing."

At Hal's questioning look, Davi's fingers went to the leather cuff at his wrist. Undoing the clasp, he let the leather band fall to the table, then overturned his hand. Two twin lines of scarification, an inch apart, marked the back of Davi's wrist just above the round protrusion of bone.

"Wolf begets wolf, Mr. Yorke."

Seeing the precision of the two lines, there was no doubt in Hal's mind, "They're spreading it on purpose. How long have they been doing this?"

"As long as my memory serves. Those born into the Pack, are born _to_ the Pack. Same as those who stray where they should not. How else did you expect we would have remained hidden for so long?"

"Wait a sec - you took the curse _on purpose_?" Alex asked, her tone betraying her disbelief.

"Tradition. Custom. My people are a tribe," Davi answered. "Becoming the wolf is a passage of age."

"You were just a kid…" Alex whispered, aghast at the thought. "But why?"

"Strength is something grown. By the time a Lobisomem reaches maturity, the wolf is already seasoned." Davi returned his gaze to Hal. "You know of what I mean."

"Your actions when turned. You remember them." Hal stated. When Alex's confusion didn't clear he added, "They're all akin to Tom. They've embraced their curse."

"Yes. Yes, they have." Davi was final in his tone. "Once begun…" he shook his head and Carl placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. "I cannot believe it. The Pack, it will be growing more so. Somewhere soon, they will gather. It is best to stay here, safe. Call your friends. Have them join you."

"We can't all move to the Hebrides!" Hal sputtered.

"Why not? You are peaceful. Best to stay that way. Your men in grey will not be able to save you."

"The wish of your Pack is to expose us all?" Hal asked, still not quite believing what Davi was telling him.

"No! Of course not."

"Then what?"

Davi met Hal's gaze across the rosewood table. His pause was long and calculated before he answered. "Simple, senhor Yorke. The aim of my people is for vampire annihilation."

The words hung heavy. Alex wanted to laugh - to joke - anything to break the stretched silence, but Hal's whisper broke it for her. "They mean war."

"War, when well-timed will bring about a genocide."

Hal shook his head decisively. "Not possible. Not even if all of Joanópolis were turned."

"Ah!" Davi slapped his fingertips against the table edge percussively. "So you _do_ know of my people."

Too late Hal realized he had given something away inadvertently. Carl was looking between Davi and Hal with a building concern. Hal clenched his jaw but reigned himself. Honesty began this, and honesty would end it. "I do. Your tribe is legendary. The Lobisomem were the only Pack that Snow struck Accords with."

"Amnesty. If we remained _desaparecido_."

"Yet here you are," Hal taunted.

"And here _you_ are."

"Davi -" Carl cautioned his partner. "Hal is not our enemy."

"But Hal was, once. Was he not?" Davi posed the question to Carl, almost as if testing to see if his partner truly knew the dark recesses of his friend's past.

"It was a long time ago," Hal answered and Davi's dark gaze whipped back to him.

"Our legends tell of a Lordly Englishman. Of a great battle brought to us. Of systematic slaughter the on moon-weary mornings. Those kinds of legends run deep. It was not so long ago for one such as you."

At what Davi was insinuating, Alex's stomach turned. Killing for blood - for an addiction - well, that was one thing. Addiction was something she understood. But a systematic slaughter? She couldn't even fathom that her Hal could have been a part of such a thing. Her Hal, who gave neither argument nor denial of Davi's accusation. "Is that what this is then? Revenge? How long have you been planning this?"

"Myself? Hah. No, I have been planning nothing. I am tired of hatred. Tired of death."

"Then... why are you telling me this?"

"Because, I am in love with Carl." Davi took his partner's hand in his to emphasize his point. "You are a part of his strength, and I have a deep respect for that strength," he stated, interlocking his fingers with Carl, who was watching Hal with apprehension. "I would warn you, same as he. Implore if you are good, then to keep that goodness. Not all vampires are the same, nor remain as same across time. But the memory of a people? They've hardened. Crystallized into embers waiting to spark at the smallest provocation."

"What?" Hal implored, shaking his head. "What has happened to set this off?"

"Long ago, we agreed to disappear. To retreat into our mountains, as we have done. But recently, someone wished to expose us. _All_ lobisomem. Leave Wales, Mister Yorke. That is where it began, thus that is where they will start the revolution."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*bump is Scottish slang for stealing_
> 
> _**Although I've been fortunate enough to travel to several strange northern isles, I've not yet been to the Hebrides. Throughout the last few chapters I relied on "the Google" to help inspire some of the scenery. Some spectacular photos of the drive cross Isle of Hearadh are available on the "Virtual Hebrides" website. Click on "Road to Huisinis" if interested._


	15. A Strange Conflux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

With marigolds immersed in suds and spray, Carl was doing the washing up. Distractedly, Alex wondered if the propensity towards immediate dish duty was a dry vampire thing. She was leaning casually, one hip against the corner of the counter as she dried each rinsed cup. The sink faced a sunken window with a view of the water only slightly obscured by small pots of culinary herbs on its ledge. Further afield, Hal and Davi were engaged in conversation at the water's edge.

Their talk at the table had lulled into an awkward silence after Hal had asked Davi to join him outside. Carl was stealing glances at them through the window, lost in thought. Alex had offered help with the washing up in an attempt to remain friendly, as well as for her own distraction. Thoughts of Cutler and the monologue he gifted her with before her death weighed heavily, as did the palatable guilt that she observed in Hal over his misguided recruit. His shoulders were visibly stiff and tense, even from here. In contrast, Davi's stance was loose, shrugging occasionally while he skipped stones across the still waters of the bay. Alex was out of teacups to dry so she deepened her lean and regarded Carl. She decided to break the heavy mood with more simple, personable matters. "So... how'd you meet Hal?"

The edges of Carl's eyes lightened and he laughed at her question. "Much to his displeasure, I sought him out. I was tired of living like…" he pursed his lips with distaste, pausing with a teacup in the stream of water. "Well, let us just say I was utterly horrendous at being a vampire. In desperation, I solicited the help of an Old One I'd heard a rumour of. An Old One who knew how to control it... at least, for a while. I tracked him to Tibet."

"Tibet? Jesus he's been around. Huh." Carl made a another little laugh at Alex's statement. "So," she continued when he didn't add anything further. "Hal taught you how to go dry?"

Carl gave the kettle a rinse, pouring water from the spigot then turned off the faucet. "Yes, he did. Hal saved me really. I was ready to end it by the time I found him."

"What happened? He thought you were dead too. Before all this?"

"Oh, well, that." He picked up two teacups from the strainer, one finger looped through the handles and began returning the dishes to the cupboard, turning his back to her. Given Carl's abrupt silence Alex thought maybe she had pushed too far, but then he closed the cupboard and returned to face her. "Actually," he started, leaning against the counter opposite with palms pressed to the edge. His fingers relaxed as he regarded her with a soft scrutiny. "Maybe you can understand. He has allowed you to get close?"

"Somewhat," Alex admitted.

"It was simple, really. I fell in love with him." Alex could feel the surprise on her face and tried to school her reaction back to reserved, suddenly unsure what to say. Carl was Hal's _ex_? She wasn't bothered by the idea exactly - Hal had certainly lived long enough to try a few things - but his dismissal when she had asked if he had a boyfriend when they first met was so... _dismissive_.

Carl brushed it off with a tilt of his shoulder. "Hal didn't reciprocate. He's had... a past. And he couldn't…" he trailed off as his gaze returned past the window to where the subject in question was standing with his back to them. Folding his arms across his chest, still watching Hal and Davi, he continued. "I was young, devastated, and terribly angry. I left with a friend of his to fight for the British Expedition - in a war I had no business in and…" he paused. "I made a mistake. The grief over what I had done…" Carl dropped his eyes with a small sigh. "It was easier to disappear than seek his counsel on how to begin again. But... by the time I realized my error, he had reverted. _Terribly_. We never spoke again."

"Oh," Alex stated awkwardly as she looked for something else to do. Carl caught her hand before she could reach for the terry, his touch cool and light.

"It was all water under the bridge a century ago." He held her hand aloft, like he was examining her. "You however, are just his type. Strong. And feisty."

"I didn't realize he had a type."

Carl released her with a casual shrug. "He trusts those who are the most forward with him. I'm coming to think it is age. You _do_ know he's older than America, right?"

"More like the discovery-of, but yeah. I know."

"Interesting…" Carl openly showed his surprise. Clearly he had expected to have one over on her, but then seemed to regard her with even more scrutiny. "When we were friends his past wasn't an easy topic to speak of. He has let you in more than I would have guessed. You haven't been a ghost very long, and yet you're this strong. What are you? Twenty-five?"

Alex scoffed and pulled away, about to retort when Hal, followed by Davi, returned to the house and entered the kitchen.

Hal met her eyes after glancing between her and Carl. "Getting along, are we?"

"Alex was about to disclose how she has come to be so fully on this mortal plane. After interrogating me ruthlessly about your sordid past, of course." Carl teased, light-hearted.

"A pleasure we all must save for another time," Hal answered dryly. "We have to go," he said to Alex. She knew from his tone that he meant go as in _go_. Whatever he had learned from Davi, they would be rent-a-ghosting the news directly to Rook.

"Thank you for your kindness," Hal inclined his head to Davi. "I will keep you informed of events as we become aware of them."

"And thank you for bearing the news to begin with. You have my gratitude."

"If you change your mind about your involvement," Hal started but Davi stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I will reach out. Thank you, Hal."

Hal nodded and pulled away. Carl had begun to approach them and Hal met his imploring eyes.

"Carl," he began softly, regarding his friend with a sad smile.

"When all this is over we shall share a bottle of Musigny and map the stars, mon frère. You know where to find me."

"I do. Thank you, Carl."

Alex started toward the door, giving a nod to Carl who had placed an arm across Davi's shoulders. "Lovely to meet you both."

"You as well, senhorita Alex," Davi answered warmly.

Carl's eyes were dark when they met hers however. "Please, be careful," he said. Alex somehow had the sense his warning was more meant for her, than Hal.

They left on foot back up the drive and Hal was silent. They could have teleported directly, but Alex supposed that would have been yet one more thing to explain. It seemed Hal was making his way back to their borrowed car. "We don't have to return it to Grimsay, do we?"

"No, presumably Rook has someone to handle it," Hal answered curtly.

"What else did Davi tell you?"

"Nothing that was of any use." He kept walking even though Alex didn't see any reason as to why he should. They were well enough out of sight from the house.

"Hey," she reached for him and caught his hand. He stopped, but didn't face her. Alex joined him in staring off into the distant hills. "This isn't your fault, you know. Cutler -"

"Cutler's ambition was instilled by me." Hal kept his gaze afield and his tone was cold. After a pause he continued, softer. "There is so much you don't know."

Alex only tightened her hold on his hand, even though her stomach knotted. A chasm of unspoken thought opened between them, unexpected as an earthquake but just as real. The silence of everything he was reluctant to say was met with her _unknowing_ of what to say. Her silence could be misunderstood as her agreement to his statement but it wasn't that at all. _Hands with black sickles of fingernail…_ The visceral dream from this morning burned brand-like behind her eyes, but she shoved it away. Now was definitely not the time to ask. If she chose her words carefully, then maybe she could bridge the span between them.

She kept her tone as even as she could. "Someday, maybe you can enlighten me. But... I fail to see how the actions of an entire group could be your fault, even if what Davi insinuated is true." Alex paused, remembering what Carl had said to her. If she couldn't be forward about this, then she couldn't be forward about anything else. Gently, she added the simple question, "Is it?"

Hal's gaze turned skyward, as if he were seeking the answer to her question above the distant hills. The cheerful birdsong was at odds with the sombre tone between them, but the tension seemed slightly relieved by her question. "Certain duties have always been… required of the Old Ones. Snow…" he spoke the old vampire's name with disdain. "I was given such a task after my previous hiatus," he haltingly admitted.

"As a - what? A punishment?" Alex hazarded, trying to understand.

Hal dropped his gaze and turned to her, his expression haunted. "If you live long enough..." he started, then shook his head. The full embodiment of sorrow sat behind his eyes. He cleared it away with a sigh then placed his other hand on her waist. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Alex kept a hold of his gaze, searching to somehow make sure he was alright. He had ended their conversation, but at least the chasm between seemed thwarted, for now. Hesitantly, she draped her arm over his shoulder and cupped the back of his neck, "So, the Archive then?"

Hal pulled them closer together as he answered with a single nod. With one last searching gaze, Alex steeled herself and closed her eyes to call up the memory. Picturing an office deep underground and miles upon miles away, they were gone, _nowhere_ and then -

\- a china teapot, complete with blue floral swirls and matching cup and saucer, sat steaming in domestic contrast to the overbearing grey of the desk beneath it. Compared to the open sky of their island journey, the interior of the Archive was oppressively contained. Computer keys clacking, Rook was furiously typing without any indication of being aware of their presence. Hal pulled away from Alex, relieved everything seemed to be in order. Without the use of his memories, the teleportation jump was as normal as could be expected. He took a commanding step towards the desk, but the department head of the Regulatory Office of Constructivism held up one stiff finger, barely missing a beat in his typed correspondence. Rook dropped his hand to continue his work as Hal narrowed his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against a filing cabinet with clear impatience and no short degree of scorn.

"One of you needs to just kiss the other, I swear," Alex plopped into a chair facing Rook's desk with a decisive huff.

With a pointed click of his mouse, Rook finally completed his business then turned, placing both hands upon his desk and facing Hal with a placating smile. "The majority of my colleagues have the courtesy to ring before they 'drop in' Mr. Yorke."

"We have arrived with the assumption you would not wish any further delay," Hal sneered poshly despite his casual posture.

"You found our Brazillian, then?"

"Yes, of course. The story he had to tell is quite fascinating."

"He knows who is behind the attacks?" Rook asked with a mild hint of eagerness.

"Of course he does. But you already knew that," Hal stated, leaving no room for argument. "His father is their Alpha, after all."

Alex folded her arms over her chest and shifted back in her chair, kicking her boots up onto Rook's desk for good measure. Hal remained leaning, keeping a distance.

"What makes you think that I knew?" Rook asked flatly.

"Your department knew he had defected. Certainly you also knew why."

"A lobisomem fraternizing with a vampire was most unusual, that is true." Rook conceded, folding his hands on his desk and giving a scrutinous eye to where his stack of files were shaking due to Alex tapping her foot. Unconcerned he returned his attention to Hal. "But we couldn't assume their romance was the only reason."

"In that, you are correct. Young Davi's political conscience runs as far afield from his Pack as his personal tastes apparently. If you were watching the Lobisomem, then you must have known about their recruitment policy?"

"Never have the Lobisomem caused need for us during my lifetime. Their entire Pack utilizes more discretion than most. One among them has kept us informed of their whereabouts. As long as they keep their existence contained, their business is their own. It is the same policy we hold for _all_ Types, Mr. Yorke." Rook pointedly looked in the general direction of where Alex was sprawled as well.

"So you are saying you weren't aware of the increase in their numbers?" Hal pushed.

"Of course we are aware. Shall I refer you to my previous statement?"

"Then you are fool." Leaving the accusation hanging, Hal approached the desk and took the chair next to Alex, sitting slowly before speaking. "The Lobisomem intend war."

At that, Rook finally furrowed his calculated brow, "War?"

"It has already begun. The effects would perhaps have been more felt if the vampires had any inkling as to what was happening. Has there been any news from Richard Turner, perchance?"

"So he is involved," the beginning of a smug smile tugged the edges of Rook's pointed mouth.

"I didn't say that. Has Richard been detained?"

"In a way," Rook narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what you have discovered and I will tell you of Mr. Turner."

Alex watched the subtle shift in Hal's posture and the muscles at his jaw clench in irritation. She straightened her slouching and leaned on an elbow towards him. He took steadying breath, then forged ahead telling Rook what he needed to hear. "The Lobisomem plan to come out of their den. They are planning to take out as many of my kind as possible in the process. It will be public. It will be messy. It will _be_ war."

"How? Where?" Rook's pale eyebrows had knitted together.

"Davi left with Carl before being privy to anything more than the Movement. As to where…" Hal cocked his head and smiled smugly. Something about that smile turned a knot in Alex's stomach. Was Hal gloating this over Rook?

Rook swallowed and sank back in his chair, hands falling limply to the armrests. "It is here, is it not?"

"You did know," Hal laughed darkly.

"Suspicions. Nothing more. Nothing… that made any sense. Until now." Rook sighed, then leaned forward, resting on his elbows. "There has been a strange conflux of Type 3s in our area. Solitary individuals, that were they alone in their destination, wouldn't raise concern. Werewolves are transient by nature, and many have come to pass through our region. Yesterday however, two known to the Cumbria area were tracked to Cardiff, and several more from the Highlands and Cornwall have been on the move. Our Ireland division reported one of their registered packs as missing, until we confirmed that their caravan was here, in Barry."

"And what of the vampires?"

"What of them? Many are convened in London and other strongholds, bickering over power. Those who are not, well, it appears to be business as usual."

"None have shown any intention of coming to Wales?"

"Not that we have intercepted."

"The firm has been compromised. It would seem they are attempting to expose us…"

"Except?"

Hal had slotted into strategy like an old coat, familiar and fitted. He examined all the pieces on the table that he knew of, yet acknowledged there was more to the puzzle than presented.

"Except that they haven't. This has been at play for months. Either they haven't been successful because your department has covered everything up, or their intention was for a long-term game."

"You said there was an informant with the Brazilians? Er, Rook, I mean?" Alex interjected. After spending a day meeting other supernaturals she must have almost forgotten that Rook couldn't hear her.

Hal caught her meaning and added to the question. "Would your informant in their ranks have informed the Pack of this department?"

"I suppose it is possible, but I doubt it." Rook was dismissive.

"Mere exposure isn't the only intent. Davi said that their goal was for annihilation, and we wouldn't be able to stop it."

"The full moon is merely days away. With an influx of Type Three's infiltrating South Wales, of all places. Why here? What is here? How could they possible draw a crowd of vampires?"

"Sheffield, Derby, Bristol and London…" Hal recounted. "All of the fight rings that were destroyed."

"Yes, I'd thought of that. Politics and sport do seem to be the favoured way for your kind to gather," Rook mused.

"And let's not forget taking over the world," Alex sniggered. Hal rolled his eyes.

"Except that is the end of it. Bermondsey was the last destination in our immediate area."

As Rook stated it, Hal raised one quirked eyebrow. This man who seemed to know everything about supernatural activities, did not seem to know about one crucial thing. Reluctantly, he shook his head. "No, it wasn't."

Rook sincerely looked surprised. "There is another?"

"Shit - there's more? How many fight rings do you people bloody need?" Alex retorted.

"There were a few... needs-must locations without permanent structure. Hetty's heir was fond of hosting one, if memory serves."

"Herrick?" Rook asked and Hal confirmed with a nod. "And this needs-must location was here, in Wales?"

"It was here, in Barry."

Realization dawned over Rook's sharp features. "The Pleasure Park."

"Vampires do love their little ironies Mr. Rook."

Rook sank in his chair. "All they have to do is announce a fight. With the thirst for retribution after London high, the vampires will come from the four corners."

Hal shook his head in disagreement. "After the bombings and what happened to the Old Ones? No. Even if someone of considerable reputation were to make the invitation, it would be questioned. I fail to see how they would convince the others to travel here."

"Yes, but publicly however, there has only been _one_ bombing. We have intelligence that the unfortunate downfall of the other locales has not been disclosed beyond an internal investigation."

Hal narrowed his eyes, "And what intelligence would that be?"

Rook steepled his hands, fingers pressed together as he regarded Hal. "There is someone you need to see." Rook commanded, rising from his desk and walking around them with renewed determination. Reluctantly, Hal stood from his chair and tilted his head curiously at Alex. Rook had paused, hand on the closed door of his office and waiting expectantly for them to join him in his request.


	16. Horsefeathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates._
> 
> * * *

One fluorescent lit corridor led to another, and Alex realized the Archive was a maze that went deeper than she would have guessed. She had a sinking suspicion who Rook wanted them to see and took Hal's hand, giving him an encouraging squeeze. His only response was to press his lips into a determined line. It was clear Hal suspected who they were being led to as well.

After two lefts and a right, they entered a room that served as an obvious holding pen. One half of the room was cordoned off with heavy steel bars, making it a somewhat generous prison, but a prison nonetheless. A metal shelf bolted to the wall with large rivets served as a seating area, or a bed. On it, a black woolen coat was strewn along with what looked to be a suit jacket, wadded into a makeshift pillow. With hands clasped behind his back and rumpled shirt untucked, Richard Turner paced within his confinement. Hal shifted his posture and slipped his hand free from Alex's grasp. Richard glanced up as they entered and the only surprise he showed was a slight clenching of his aristocratic jaw.

"Henry. And your exotic little pet." Richard shook his head as Alex stood a little straighter, affronted. "I knew it." He sauntered towards them, coming to stand serenely opposite on the other side of the bars. "How do you _always_ manage to squirrel your way into these things?"

Hal regarded Richard in a detached silence which was met with a steeled stare from the caged vampire. Both were equally stone-faced and Alex couldn't tell what either were thinking. She'd hate to play poker with these two.

Seemingly yielding the staring contest, Richard ran a hand through his mussed hair. His attack on their group in London had not allowed much time for observation, so Alex hadn't gotten a good look at Hal's old business partner until now. She noted that he must have been older than Hal when he was turned; his black hair was lightly peppered silver at the temples. He was a darkly handsome man who would look at ease anywhere from Prague to Palermo; an international chameleon expensively tailored. With broad shoulders over a narrow waist, he was similar in build to Hal, though slightly taller. He also was lacking Hal's ever-present coiled reservation. Instead, Richard Turner oozed a relaxed, vampiric charm. The dimples of his slow smile only accented the budding suave promise of sensual and secret things.

"So. Are you here to rescue me then? Scratch that," he said, dark eyes flicking to Rook lingering in the doorway. "You're clearly involved. Tell me you aren't blowing up your own assets?" He peered at Hal, then shifted his attention to Alex. She felt his gaze assess her almost caressingly, from her neck clear down to her boots. He huffed with a small laugh, "Jesus. You fucking would, wouldn't you? Probably even got your ghost to do it for you."

The spell of his charm broke and Alex bristled. "Och! Listen here cupcake," she started to retort but Hal stopped her with a quick gesture. Richard caught their exchange and showed his amusement with the raise of one eyebrow. Hal halted that as well with a smouldering glower and Richard's amused smile quickly dropped.

"I'm not the one behind this. Do you know why you're here?"

"Oh yeah, sure. Fucking secret agents are just peachy conversationalists." Richard shrugged, exasperation and fatigue clearly evident beneath his facade as he shot an uneasy glare towards Rook. "How do you know these bureaucratic assholes anyway?"

"The firm has been threatened. You have been compromised."

"Oh really? No shit." Richard grasped one of the bars, the ring he was wearing clinking against the metal as he leaned towards them. "I would have let you go, you know. This," he waved to his cage, "is _completely_ uncalled for."

"You brought this on yourself when you didn't replace your public front," Hal stated.

"What? That philistine? Gave himself a cardiac. On the books for twenty years with nary an incident and then this."

"He died two years ago Richard."

"So what? Snow was going to kick off his big bloody Coming-Out party. I didn't think I'd need to have bothered. You know how much we have to pay Patsys like him so's to not get staked? And since when did you care anyway?"

"I don't," Hal stated plainly. "However, if you were to have gotten yourself arrested it would inevitably unveil our entire world. There are those who would prefer that not to happen."

"That _you've_ certainly proven," Richard agreed angrily. "Except you're missing one thing, _friend._ " He tapped the bar percussively with his fingernail.

"You're not arrested. Not yet. You, friend, are being detained."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Get me the fuck out of here then."

"Not in my power, I'm afraid," Hal said casually.

For the first time during their entire exchange, Richard looked genuinely shocked and straightened his posture. "Surely you're not working for these children."

"No, I'm working with them. A subtle difference, and a skill you perhaps have forgotten."

"Oh, Henry! You're still sore over _your_ little detainment in London, aren't you? And here I thought you would have understood my position."

"I trusted you," Hal spoke calmly, his hands loose at his sides but the coiled threat present in him was all the more pronounced. "Trust, which was betrayed to Snow and then repaid with one of your little joy rides and an all-out attempt to kill off my friends. How did you think I would react?"

"Well," Richard shrugged loosely, leaning against the bars once more. "You didn't come after me."

"No, I did not. I believed you would have understood _my_ position and left well enough alone." Hal turned to Rook, acknowledging that the man had been curiously watching his reunion with Richard. "Is there a point you are trying to make?"

Rook stepped forward, keeping his blue gaze steadily on Richard as he answered Hal, "I had questioned the true nature of the relationship between you."

"And?" Hal prodded. His temper was growing short.

"And you have confirmed what I already suspected. Come, let us continue our discussion elsewhere."

"Away from Richard you mean." Hal stated flatly.

Behind the bars Richard bellowed a sudden laugh. "Oh this is… I never thought I'd see the day."

"What else have we to discuss?" Hal ignored Richard's taunting as Rook indicated that they should go.

Richard gripped the bar tighter, his knuckles whitening. "Really Henry? Truly? You show up, plain as day and then… just leave me here?"

"There is much, Mr. Yorke," Rook answered, turning away.

"Oh Jesus - Henry, come on!" Richard pleaded as Hal started to turn away. "There are things at stake - the Council-"

Hal turned back lightening fast and slammed his palm into the bar next to Richard's head; his old partner visibly flinched. Hal's eyes had darkened dangerously as he took a breath and wrapped his fingers into a fist around the bar. "This is beyond control of your fucking _Council!_." Richard swallowed, finally silenced and Hal softened his stance. "You're safe here. You will just have to manage."

Richard snorted, seeming to relax. "Safe? They'll come looking for me you know. Spike was there - he saw me get taken. I'm sure he'll alert-"

"Spike?"

"Oh, you know - Steven." At Hal's blank look Richard added, "Rosanna's lad. He works for us now."

A recognition, along with something else, flickered across Hal's features but he quickly schooled himself back to impassive.

"Time is as ever of the essence, Mr. Yorke," Rook prodded from the doorway. Hal held Richard's gaze a moment longer before releasing the bar and turning away. This time, Richard remained silent and watched them go. Alex followed, but shot a backwards glance at the vampire in the cage. Richard Turner gave her a slow, surreptitious smile that sent a chill straight through. She quickly rent-a-ghosted to catch up, relieved to be out of his sight.

They didn't return to Rook's office. Instead, he led them further along a corridor to a stairwell, the concrete treads well worn.

"Mr. Turner has not been the most forthcoming with information," Rook began as he descended the stairwell. "Nor is he one that we would expect as an ally. The loyalty he holds to his clients runs deep."

"If he wasn't forthcoming, then how did you know he hasn't told his Council about the other locations?"

"We have our ways."

"Wooo, scary. Is this guy self-assured or what?" Alex barbed, following Hal.

"You have an informant within the Council then?" Hal asked but Rook did not answer. Instead, they reached the bottom of the stairwell to a landing with two doors, each marked with a large number. Rook produced a key card from his pocket and swiped the electronic reader next to the door marked with a large, black 1. The door lock released and Rook turned the latch, pocketing his key-card and pausing.

"We discreetly work with many Types who acknowledge and understand our cause. It is my hope that you will continue to be one of them, Mr. Yorke."

Hal tilted his head quizzically at Rook's statement as he opened the door to a long room bracketed with row upon row of ceiling-tall wire shelves.

"Holy cheeses," Alex exclaimed, taking in the room over Hal's shoulder. "They really do have an archive in the Archive."

"Greetings Arthur," Rook called out as he stepped through the threshold then held the door open for Hal to join him. An elder gentleman with a trim white beard, dressed in dark grey waistcoat with white gloves, stepped forward past a row of shelves and smiled warmly.

"Mr. Rook!" he greeted. Then, watching Hal enter the space he added, "And a guest. Hello."

Rook let the door swing shut and Alex quickly rent-a-ghosted to stand on the other side of him in the narrow aisle between tall shelves. "This is our depository for active cases. Our archivist, Arthur runs a tight ship. Arthur, this is Hal Yorke."

Arthur's bright eyes widened and his hand trembled slightly as he set his clipboard down on the shelf next to him. "Bless my buttons - surely not?"

"Indeed," Rook acknowledged quick and clipped. "We're sorry to interrupt, but if you could be so kind as to pull what information, if any, you have on activity surrounding the Barry Island Pleasure Park?"

Arthur was openly staring at Hal, his cheerful smile exchanged for amazement. "Whatever you wish, sir."

"Thank you, Arthur. Call me if you find anything." Rook requested.

"Of course. Sir?" Arthur asked as Rook had turned to leave. "Is the Type seven here as well?"

"He doesn't mean me, does he?" Alex wondered out loud.

"Yes, she is," Rook answered quickly even though he hadn't directly acknowledged her presence until now.

"Honoured, Miss Millar," Arthur concluded with a little nod of his head. "Thank you sir."

Rook led them back out the way they came. Once the door was securely shut, he said, "Arthur's favourites are always the ghost stories." He swiped his key card at the reader across the hall and opened the door on another shelving-filled room identical to the one they had just left. They passed through it briskly and exited through the door marked 2 on the opposite end. The landing beyond mirrored the first, only these doors were marked 2 and 3. Alex wondered just how many such rooms were sequestered down here.

Rook led them up the stairwell and they were back in a familiar corridor. Instead of returning to his office, he motioned them towards an empty meeting room. Austere and utilitarian, the room contained only a table with several chairs on either side with a telephone at its center. Opposite the doorway was a large mirror centered on the wall either for observation, like in police interrogation films, or merely as a blatant vampire check. Alex's reflection stared back at her next to the absence where Hal's should be.

Unconcerned, Rook took a seat and motioned for Hal to join him as he renewed the conversation."The situation is such that we could benefit from your continued involvement."

"In what sense?" Hal's tone was terse and reserved as he took a seat. The small encounter with Arthur and the immensity of the archive had disarmed him somewhat, but he still remained guarded around Rook.

Alex pulled a chair free and took a seat as well, as Rook looked on, seemingly searching the air for her presence with his piercing blue gaze. Once she was settled, he returned his attention to Hal. "We have a duty to try and stop this from happening, or at least contain it. If the vampires are enticed to travel to our area, we have to make sure that they do not. I will set my teams to investigate incoming correspondence over the next few days. There may be a way in which to track these wolves to their source. In the meantime, we will keep an eye on our visitors."

"Your calculations put nearly a dozen in our area?" Hal asked, resting his hands carefully on the surface of the table. Alex could sense that he was attempting to appear relaxed.

"Yes, plus your household of course."

Hal squared his jaw, obviously displeased at this development. The full moon would prove to be even more of an evening to remain indoors than usual it would seem. "A dozen well-placed werewolves could do a lot of damage, but it would be more akin to exposure than annihilation."

"This department has been guarding supernatural secrets almost as long as you have. Containing any exposure is our job. However, something else is bothering you, isn't it?"

"Whatever is about to happen seems to be just another means to an end. A dozen werewolves would hardly make a dent in the number of vampires in the world."

"Perhaps more Type threes will be coming," Rook theorized. "Our informant with the Lobisomem has not reported anything out of the ordinary, so either he is lying, or we may be dealing with a rogue group. If we can stop the vampires from arriving as well, then the entire situation could be stymied." Rook cocked his head at Hal, contemplative. "You have already served a diplomatic purpose at times in your past, correct?" Without awaiting Hal's answer, Rook continued matter-of-factly, "You are acquaintances with some of the key players. And if not, then they will know of you. However it happens this could be the start of a war, as you have said. We're going to have to convince them otherwise. _You_ could convince them otherwise. The world isn't ready."

Hal shook his head, then took a moment with his palms flattened to the table."Change isn't always unwanted, Dominic," Hal spoke softly with an undercurrent of control. Rook leaned forward, about to argue, but Hal continued, "I supported the War Child for a reason."

"You _want_ this war to happen?" Rook demanded, disbelieving.

"No, but I cannot deny the appeal of a world without vampires."

"The world isn't ready," Rook repeated.

"No, I believe it is you who isn't ready. We're done." Hal pushed away from the table and stood, holding a hand to Alex. "Your request is for something I cannot do. I mustn't return, no matter the purpose."

She stood, taking Hal's offered hand with uncertainty, "What? That's it?"

Rook had raised an eyebrow but remained seated. "There's just one more thing," he stated, causing them both to pause. "Mr. McNair has become entangled."

The only indication of Hal's growing irritation was a clenching of his jaw, the muscles becoming more pronounced. "Tom?" Alex wondered out loud. "So when he didn't come home…"

"Entangled how, exactly?" Hal asked, the edge in his voice betraying his slipping restraint.

"It appears he has befriended some of our visitors."

"I will speak with him. Good day, Mr. Rook."

* * *

Allison Larkin was at the library again for her afternoon break between classes. She had been distracted away from her return email to Vinnie the previous night by her conversation with Tom. Allison smiled with a soft blush at the thought. It had been rather nice to have an entire evening with the the house to themselves.

She wanted to confide in Vinnie about her research, as well as her intimate knowledge of UK werewolves - namely, herself - but she also didn't really know Vinnie. In light of recent events she decided to run a quick Google-stalking to see what else she could discover before she crafted her response.

Within the very first search results, there it was. Even before translating the news clipping, she could recognise the meaning. Her search parameters hadn't come up with it before because she had been geared towards werewolf stories. When she found Vinnie's article about the Lobisomem, she had taken it at face value. She had quickly clicked the web-mail link from within his short bio to send him her first inquiry.

According to this however, Vinicius Emanuel da Rocha Batista was dead.

She imported the memorial announcement into Translate to read more. Vinnie was killed in an apparent auto accident, over eight weeks ago. Had she been exchanging messages with his ghost?

Allison opened her email, clicking on the email chain with Vinnie. He must be pretending to still be alive - and still pursuing his research. She knew the explanation of a ghost online was entirely plausible. But even knowing, believing and living with undeniable proof in the existence of ghosts, Allison Larkin still felt a chill creep across the back of her neck, her hackles rising in caution. Something, she couldn't pin it down, was throwing her off.

Vinnie claimed he had gone looking for his missing cousin. _Usually, one does not see the Lobisomem and return to tell the tale,_ he had said _._ Had Vinnie found the Lobisomem and then was killed for it?

Hal and Alex had traveled to speak with someone connected to the Pack for Mr. Rook. Could they actually be in danger? Quickly, Allison retrieved her mobile and dialed Honolulu Heights. The line trilled several times before connecting to the answering machine. "Hal? Alex? This is Allison. Give me a ring when you get in."

Allison ended the call then stared at the memorial announcement on her screen. They really needed to convince Hal to carry a mobile.

* * *

From their vantage in front of the cheery placard over the range, the house appeared quiet and empty. The kitchen was in the same orderly state as he had left it. Hal absorbed the gentle sanctuary of familiar surroundings, already feeling soothed. He didn't even realize he had kept his arms resting over Alex's shoulders after their teleportation, until she spoke.

"You okay?" She asked.

He didn't know. It was all so… Hal stepped away from her and reached for the kettle. Filling it with water would allow him to turn away from her questioning gaze, and allow him to stall maybe long enough to know. Her question wasn't just about whether he was okay, but what he was going to do. And for that, he needed tea. And perhaps an infinity of press ups…

He had begun this.

Almost a century ago the pieces had started to fall and he had no inkling. He wondered if Snow even could have foreseen the catastrophe they had created. Maybe he did. Maybe it was all part of the ancient's endless scheme. Chaos, exposure; Snow always did prefer to stir the pot and see what arose. A mortal's idea of free will had amused the Old One, and he had been notorious for toying with it. Perhaps allowing the Lobisomem their freedom all those years ago had been just another piece of a long game towards ultimate chaos and control.

"Hal?" Alex placed a hand on his shoulder. He had stopped, kettle filled and the water off but leaning against the sink in his contemplation. He shrugged her away and turned to put the kettle on. "Do you want to -" she started, pushing again.

Exasperation left him in a huff. "I need to think."

He pulled down a teapot and rummaged in the cabinet for a decent loose leaf, still keeping his back to Alex. He didn't have an answer for her yet.

"But if Tom's involved -"

"Alex! Jesus." He snapped, whirring to face her. Wide-eyed and hurt, she looked away, her fingers twirling the ring on her left hand in consternation. Immediately he regretted snapping at her. She was only trying to help.

Hal took a deep breath and attempted to soften his stance. "I didn't mean-" he started but she furrowed her brow and disappeared with a stiff displacement and the ghostly equivalent of a slammed door. Hal could instantly feel that she wasn't in the house. "Damn it," he muttered.

After days, weeks - months really, Hal was alone again. Until this week, he had rarely been left on his own. Even at the hotel Tom and Alex were always on shift when he was. His visit to Glasgow, and subsequent solo return journey hadn't been planned as such, but nor had it felt as trying as now. The temptation to return to London - to take control and _fix_ all this - was strong, regardless of what he had told Rook. _But it wasn't about stopping a war._.. Hal swallowed, placed his hands on the counter and took a steadying breath. _Focus._ It was only the strain of the past day that made the issue as pronounced as he now felt it. He took another few rounds of breath, then focused on measuring tea leaves. He didn't _have_ to do anything. He could talk to Tom, convince his friend to stay out of it. They could all go back to living as before.

 _Horsefeathers._ It was a nice delusion.

While the water heated, he set about locating the shoe polish. At least he could finally clean his fucking boots.

* * *

*Horsefeathers = bullshit, Victorian style.


	17. The Route

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal. Reviews are love, and so is cake._
> 
> * * *

Tom arrived home and shrugged out of his jacket, pinning it up quickly on the coat rack. He wanted to talk to Allison about the Route, but knew she may not make it home from her study group in time. Rather than call her, he rationalized that he would investigate, then report back and tell her if it were anything worth telling. The werewolves were gathering, and Irving's pack wouldn't say why. Didn't seem like they quite knew themselves. Almost all of them had received messages, or been met by others asking to join in a revolution, a movement. Individuals all over the West had been alerted. Those in the area who could make it, were either already in Barry, or on their way.

Tom guessed it had something to do with the bombings that Rook had told Hal and Alex about. Tom was still angry with Hal for deceiving him, but that wasn't why he had decided to go. Nor was it to investigate for Rook to find out who was behind it all. Tom had accepted Conal's invitation purely for his own curiosity.

He stepped into the kitchen to prepare a quick supper. He would leave a note for Allison along with the leftovers. He was about to pull down a saucepan, but a newly washed teapot in the strainer caught his eye, then a small bit of movement made him quickly turn. Hal was standing in the doorway.

"It's not nice to sneak in on folks," Tom grumbled, then resumed his reach for a pan. Part of him was glad his friends had made it back, but part of him bristled as well. He was still mad at Hal, and a little mad at himself for being too distracted to realize his flatmate was home.

"Hello Tom."

"Where's Alex?" Tom asked in an attempt to be civil, placing a cutting board on the counter.

"She... had some business to attend to elsewhere."

Tom glanced at Hal who was holding himself rather stiffly in the doorway. His friend always righted his posture into perfection when he was uncomfortable. "Don't you go being all polite. She's hacked off at you now too then?"

Hal pressed his lips into a line as he met Tom's accusatory stare. He soon softened though and gave a dismissive nod. "Probably, yes."

Tom snorted a smug laugh that his guess was right, then reached for a knife. He set about peeling some potatoes. Hal relaxed a bit and leaned into the doorway, watching him work for moment.

"The implication is that you are still 'hacked off' with me," Hal stated, forging into what they both knew they needed to discuss.

"Cor I am," Tom shrugged then pointedly chopped a potato in half, the knife thwacking against the cutting board. "You lied."

"I withheld the truth. There is a distinction."

"No, not really. S'not all that different."

"Aren't you doing the same?"

Tom stopped, his second potato only half chopped and set the knife down. "What makes you say that?"

"You could have told me yesterday that you ran into some wolves. Preferably _before_ we went all the way to the Hebrides to speak with one."

"I didn't know they was connected," Tom shrugged then folded his arms across his chest. "And don't go turning this on me. Why didn't you tell me 'bout the fight rings?"

Hal kept Tom's demanding gaze but didn't shift his leaning posture. "You had not yet told me how McNair was turned, so a reason to disclose that part of my past never arose. Why would I have hurt you unnecessarily?"

Relaxed and even, Hal's tone was like he was explaining a simple thing to a child. Tom hated when he did that. Especially when he knew that Hal was right. Tom searched his friend's face for a hint of deception, but there was none. "Has there been anything else you've naught told me?"

"Of course. Several centuries, in fact."

Tom rolled his eyes at Hal's sarcasm and added to his question, "Does what you've not told me affect our household now?"

"Until yesterday, I would have probably answered no."

Tom broke his gaze away to stare at the floor near Hal's bare feet. "You be involved with this revolution mess, haven't ya?"

"Yes," Hal answered simply. "I fear that I started it. A century ago. The situation was just awaiting a spark. Cutler lit the fuse with his anti-werewolf campaign."

"Oh," Tom turned away, pondering while he resumed supper prep. "That's a right bother then."

"Yes, I believe it is." Hal agreed with a softened voice. "You can ask me - anything, Tom. I hope you know that."

Tom considered for a moment while keeping his attention on the counter and tried not to act surprised. What Hal was offering was huge for him, and Tom was warmed by his friend's openness. So he asked the first question that popped into his head. "Are you really five hundred and something?"

"I, er, don't actually know," Hal straightened, startled by Tom's question. "I'm five hundred and _something_." Hal paused, reflecting briefly, then added "I have been a vampire four hundred and ninety eight years, one month and fifteen days."

"Oh," Tom exclaimed softly, momentarily taken aback at Hal's exactness. "Why don't you know 'fore that? Do you not know your own birthday?" Tom asked then shrugged, "I never 'ad mucha one but at least I knew of it."

"I was born in a brothel in a time before public records."

"You were wha?" Tom stopped working again and glanced at Hal, disbelieving. "You're putting me on."

"No. Afraid not."

"Blimey."

"That is one way of putting it."

"So you don't know your own birthday," Tom pressed, attempting to ignore the brothel bit for now.

"No," Hal shook his head.

"When do you get cake then?"

Hal gave a laugh at Tom's genuine question. "A group of werewolves are about to start a revolution, potentially take over Barry and beyond, but you want to know when I celebrate my birthday? Oh, Tom."

"Well," Tom shuffled his feet, suddenly feeling simple and peered at his potatoes. "You're right and all, but when am I gonna make you cake? Annie can't do it, so somebody's gotta."

"Unless you get yourself killed by being mixed up in all this," Hal countered, redirecting the conversation. "Who are your new friends?"

Tom sighed and looked away again. "They're werewolves, Hal. They waited until I was away from the house before introducing themselves so you probably won't be able to talk to them."

"I don't need to talk to them. I just need to know that you're okay."

"Yeah. I'm fine. They're nice. Not what you'd think. They're a family."

"And what do you believe I'd be thinking about them, exactly?"

"Not every werewolf sets out to be a slayer is all."

"I'm aware of that. What are they doing here though? What is their plan?"

"They… wanted to find me actually. They'd heard bout me n'McNair, and…" Tom stopped, suddenly unsure of what else he could and should tell Hal. He wanted to withhold which was the very thing Hal had accused him of doing. He wanted to withhold because he knew Hal wouldn't like it. "There's a gathering. Tonight. They wanted me to come."

"And you're going." Hal stated it without question, as if he already knew that Tom would.

"May as well, right?" Tom asked, trying to get a sense from Hal. "I never had much opportunity to meet many of my own kind..."

"Do you know what they want from you?"

Tom was uncomfortable answering, but Hal's earlier openness made him press on. "They want me to teach them how to use the wolf, during a turn-like."

"And you agreed?" Hal asked. Tom merely nodded a nervous response, but Hal didn't seem angry. "Just make sure you know your own motivations," he added. "I will be here, if you need. I can't deny it will be interesting to hear what you find out."

"What did that Brazilian fellow have to say?"

"Nothing you haven't already been made aware of, I'm sure," Hal answered. "There is a faction of the Lobisomem planning to wage war on vampires. Somehow, that entails their gathering here in Barry. Rook and his department are trying to find out why and where, so they can keep the situation from going public."

"And stop it right? They'll try to stop it?"

"Rook will do whatever it takes to keep this quiet, that much is certain."

"And what about you? Will you try and stop it?"

"I think that maybe, this is just all part of what was supposed to happen after Eve," Hal mused.

"Prophecy and the like? Did the skin parchment have anything to say 'bout a werewolf war?"

"The scriptures never were overly specific, but Eve _was_ the War Child."

Tom sighed and turned away. Even up until the very end he never really believed little Eve's fate had been so black and white. He often wondered what it would have been like, if things had gone differently. But Hal believed, and Tom knew he didn't stand a chance at arguing down a five hundred year old from a centuries-held belief. He was too glad to have the tension gone between them for that. "So… you hungry?" Tom asked.

"I'm always hungry, Tom." Hal stated plainly.

"Good. You can help with the cookin'."

* * *

Hal was coming into the kitchen holding two empty plates when Alex reappeared. He looked up at her sudden appearance, but kept on his trajectory for the sink.

"You just missed Tom," he said by way of greeting before he turned on the tap.

"He okay?" she asked as she hitched up to sit on the counter.

"He's fine. I just hope he stays that way."

"What do you mean?"

"He's gone to a Route."

"Shouldn't that be 'gone on a route' or something?"

"A Route is a gathering of werewolves."

"Oh _shite_. And you let him go?"

"Tom is an adult who can make his own choices. He's been seeking his kind for most his life. It would have been a row if I tried to keep him from it."

"So? You two were already having a row," Alex hopped off the counter, boots smacking the floor. "Where is he? I'll go! Make sure he's okay."

"Tom will be fine. It should only be a couple hours and then maybe we'll know more of what is happening."

"Jesus, you sent him to spy?"

"I did nothing of the sort. I didn't _send_ Tom anywhere. He was already going. And we're not having a row."

"Oh that's great."

Hal turned off the water and took Alex by the shoulders. "Tom will be fine," he assured, holding her still. Searching her eyes, he added "Are you alright? This has been a lot to process today. And… I'm sorry for earlier."

Alex closed her eyes, half shaking her head then took a deep breath. "I went to Finnegan's - across from the Pleasure Park?" She met Hal's gaze, seeking understanding before continuing. "I just wanted a slice of normal, you know? There were blokes watching a match, and a family eating chips and it was all just… so…" She paused but Hal didn't say anything, just waited for her. "I kipped into the park, which was empty cuz it's past season… and I just couldn't understand what they'd want with Barry. How will a bunch of werewolves showing up here destroy vampires? I mean, there's really not much left to vandalize." She joked halfheartedly and met his open hazel eyes.

He shook his head before pulling her close, arms wrapped around her and sighed into her hair, "I honestly don't know."

Alex tucked her face against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him. Their embrace made her feel instantly more grounded. He rested his chin on the top of her head and their closeness made her whisper, "What if they're successful? What if something happens to you?"

"Nothing is going to happen to me because I'm staying out of it."

"But what Rook said - if you can stop the vampires from even coming-"

"I can't," he stated and Alex pulled away so she could look at him.

"Can't, or won't?"

"You saw how Richard reacted, and he had been an ally. I do not hold sway anymore, nor…" Hal paused, took a deep breath. "Nor do I wish to. I cannot go back. Rook's best candidate is already in his keeping."

"But they're looking for Richard. If the authorities find him then that's it - vampires all out of the closet."

"There will have to be another way. We don't have enough information yet."

"Hence, Tom."

"Tom has made friends with some of the werewolves here. He was sought out for his past with McNair."

"For killing, you mean."

"They already believe him to be on their side. Tom will be fine."

Alex considered and figured Hal was probably right. But she also realized that if the day had taken its toll on her, then it probably had for him as well. "And what about you?"

"I'm fine," Hal answered rather quickly. Alex narrowed her eyes and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, like she were taking a temperature. Tension, coiled and tough, met her psyche at the barest sip of how he was feeling.

"The hell you are. Upstairs," Alex commanded and Hal's eyes instantly hardened.

"What?"

"Upstairs. Now," she insisted. He didn't move except to tilt his head at her curiously, then slide his eyes to the sink full of dishes and sudsy water. She caught the look and smiled. "Washing up can wait," she challenged.

"Alex," Hal started to pull away, his body language evident he was going to argue, so she stopped him. She dropped her hands to his waist and pulled him to her as she leaned in and kissed him. Fully, quickly and without room for debate, she sparked the wanting between them and felt it drop through. She tugged at his lower lip and he softened ever so slightly and shuddered. Then he pushed her away, jaw clenched as he caught his breath.

"Hal, if we were still trail running I would _so_ teleport you to the woods right now."

"I know." Hal turned towards the sink and reached for the marigolds. Alex gave an exasperated sigh, then rent-a-ghosted back to her perch on the countertop. She watched as he began washing each dish, intently focused and precise.

"Did you and Tom sort stuff out then?"

"For now."

"He cares for you, you know."

"I know."

Alex bit her lip, unsure why Hal had gotten so terse. There was a tension radiating from him and it wasn't just their conversation, or the conversation from Rook earlier. She almost wondered if he wished for her to disappear again. She crossed her ankles and let her heels fall against the cabinet with a soft thud.

He finished the wash, placing the cutlery in line on the terry next to the strainer, then removed the marigolds. He washed his hands and still didn't look at her. Alex was just about to say the hell with it and leave him be, when finally, he turned. Hands at his sides and still, his gaze landed on her boots, then travelled to where her hands curved over the edge of the counter top, up her torso and to her neck. When he met her eyes, he tilted his head and took a deep breath. Alex stared back and didn't budge.

Hal took one step towards her, coming right up against her knees and her ankles uncrossed automatically. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to the edge of the counter, forcing her knees to rise in a quick counterbalance. She exhaled with surprise as her groin met his stomach, and her knees tightened against him. He leaned in to kiss her, the full softness of his lips met hers and she responded hungrily, arching into him.

Sometimes, kissing Hal was akin to drinking a rich, red wine; full and heady. Their fire flared, her jacket felt thick and cumbersome between them and his grip on her hips tightened. He held her lower lip and shuddered, then pulled away and dropped his head. Blatantly, in an abject challenge of himself or her - she wasn't certain - he kissed the side of her throat. His tongue met her skin and a shiver shot through her. Alex tightened her knees on either side of his waist - in warning or encouragement, she wasn't sure. But then his teeth - his _normal_ teeth - scraped and Alex gasped. Hal trembled, his breath quickened but he merely sucked at her skin lightly, then kissed her throat. He lifted his head and met her eyes, his expression at once open, lost, hopeful, and agonizingly lustful. She didn't need to touch him to know.

"Upstairs now?" Her whispered question with a hint of a smile was all she could manage. He took a shaky breath, then nodded once. She brought her hands to his face, cupping his jaw and fingertips resting against his sideburns, before she teleported them direct to his bed.

Alex toppled backwards against the mattress and Hal landed on top of her. He blinked, shaking his head at the sudden and unexpected jump, then decided it didn't matter. He slid his body over hers and kissed her fiercely. Immediately after teleportation, Alex always tasted of chardonnay. _The last thing she had before Cutler killed her_. He preferred a vintage sherry of course, but mixed with the scent of her, Alex always tasted exquisite. She opened her mouth to him and began circling her hips, inciting him. Jesus, he couldn't get enough of her. He wanted to bite her lip. Instead, he kissed her jaw, then moved to her throat, both of their breathing already haggard.

Enticing as it was he merely sucked at the skin then moved down, fingers quickly finding the zip of her jacket. He wound his hands through to the warmth of her waist, massaging her groin with the increasing bulge of his trousers as he kissed the rise of her breasts. Alex moaned and hugged her legs around his hips, inviting him closer and he felt the weight of her boots against his thighs.

Her hands found his waist, fingers slipped past his belt and the contact made him gasp. It was an electric shiver, every time. She caressed his skin lightly then moved to undo the buckle. He hadn't even gotten her jacket off yet. His hands ran up her sides, then slipped over her arms to push the material off her shoulders.

"Mmm, Hal," she moaned and he lifted his head to kiss her, to taste her. She helped him relieve her of the jacket then brought her hands to his face. She pressed against him and returned his kiss, darting her tongue into his mouth.

This would never cease to be dangerous, but the more they engaged, the more he could channel his focus to her; to responding to _her_ pace and what she wanted of him, then the more he could tune out his own urges.

Except… last night he had slipped. He had allowed himself to manifest and sense her fully while he was deliciously inside of her. And she had _goaded him on_. She was always pushing at his boundaries - testing her theory that if he could give in to his monster just a little, he could appease it. Yet what she didn't understand was that he would always want more. _Always._

He knew he should stop. _It was only a matter of time before_ \- Alex's teeth had grasped his lip and her hands had dropped to his chest, tugging at his shirt. It was only a matter of time, but that time wasn't now. He let her coax the fabric up while his hands shoved aside the skirt of her dress. Belly to belly, they both gasped. Every time.

* * *

The _Route_ was a not-so-clandestine gathering of werewolves in a warehouse near the docks. Lights were shining and the scent of food and ale was in the air. Conal hadn't mentioned that there'd be supper, but then Tom supposed it made sense if this were werewolves getting together. Tom didn't think he was late, yet even from outside he could sense them - _several_ of them.

The din of voices increased as Tom followed a narrow path past pallets and table sized shipping spools. A stout, gruff fellow was stationed next to the door on a bar stool, his beard illuminated by the glow of his mobile. With a quick twitch of moustache, Tom was waved through without any other kind of greeting. The doorman went back to reading his phone and Tom squared his jaw before he ducked inside.

Never, in all his life, had he seen so many. There had to be over two dozen. Young, mostly. Men, mostly. The few lady werewolves had arms draped protectively over their shoulders. Some of the conversations shushed at his entrance as heads turned and a few of them even blatantly sniffed the air. His status as one of them confirmed, the wash of voices quickly resumed. Tom was the outsider here, and yet he couldn't dispel the excitement he felt at the core of him. This was it - finally. The Pack!

Irving must have been looking out for him because he immediately appeared. "You came!" He clapped Tom on the back and grinned. "I didn't rightly know if you would. Maude and Beg are off there," Irving pointed and Begley gave an excited wave that nearly made him drop his plate.

"Where's Conal?" Tom asked. At his name, Conal turned from the conversation he was in with a broad shouldered man. Recognition instantly hit Tom square in the gut. His stance hardened into preparation for a fight, and Irving furrowed his brow.

"What be the matter?"

Tom didn't answer as Conal approached. Looming behind him was a man whose stride across the room was followed by nearly all in attendance. Broad shoulders that commanded attention in his same tan leather jacket and seemingly permanent scowl.

"Are you here to spy, pipsqueak?" Milo's hardened glare raked at him as he stepped right close, pulled Tom by the collar, and _sniffed_. "At least you don't smell like him."

"I'm not no spy," Tom met Milo's hard stare assertively, fully knowing how much was riding on convincing Milo of that. Milo released him with a huffed shove but didn't move. Tom stood his ground as well. Conal and Irving both hung back and Tom felt a stab of betrayal. They _knew_ Milo would confront him. Milo may have even been the one to tell Irving where he was. Tom wondered what else the pack knew that they hadn't told him. But Milo broke his stony assessment and surprised Tom.

"You're infamous, Thomas McNair. But I want to know what you're doing still keeping the company you keep?"

"Like you're one to talk," Tom grumbled. "I had made an exception."

"You made an exception for the worst of them left."

"Not no more. He's kind, changed," Tom surprised himself at sticking up for Hal.

"He turned traitor to his own kind. He can't be trusted. I wasn't so sure about you… but Gwedore here has vouched for you. I get it. You're the loyal sort." Milo paused, his wary eyes still narrowed. "We could use the likes of you, which is why I had you followed. But whether you were invited or no was up to them."

As Tom processed the shifting information about his new friends, Milo snorted a laugh. Tom knew his face had probably betrayed his mixed feelings. But before Milo could goad him further, Tom turned it on him. "What about you? How'd you get involved with _your_ own kind? How'd they even let you after who you worked for?"

Milo just cocked a smile. If Tom had thought he could reveal something to the wolves watching, he was wrong. Milo wasn't hiding a thing. "Bolivia was done. Snow was done. I had certain intel that could prove useful to another player."

"So you ran from the warehouse and went crawling back to the wolves."

"Negotiations, dear Tom. Negotiations. I told you I would survive whatever you decided."

"I don't see a big kid on your playground here. Have you upgraded?" Cheekily, Tom looked around past Milo.

Milo snorted. "Slayer, _we_ are the big kids now. The vampires won't even see what hits 'em."

Suddenly Milo whirled away from Tom. In a booming voice, he shouted, "Alright people, listen up!"


	18. Red Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal. Reviews are love._
> 
> * * *

When Allison arrived home it was to all of the downstairs lights on and shining for themselves. Hal's boots were by the door, smelling sharply of shoe polish. They must have made it back from the Hebrides then, she thought, momentarily relieved. The house also smelled of supper, seasoned and comforting, and her stomach gnawed. Allison set her shoulder bag down on a barstool and headed for the kitchen, but it too was empty. The washing up was laid out to dry, and a note in Tom's scrawl caught her eye. She retrieved it from under a magnetic domino on the fridge.

_Allison -_  
 _Supper's in the fridge. I'll be out for a couple hours tonight with the pack. I'll explain when I get home, or you can ask Hal. Alex and him are back._  
 _Love,  
_ _Tom_

Allison set the note down on the table and cast her hearing. The house was quiet. Maybe Hal & Alex had gone for a walk. Idly, she opened the fridge and pulled out the tupperware of leftovers. She was thankful he had saved some for her, but wished he had taken the time to explain more in his note. She removed the lid and grabbed a fork after switching the tea kettle on, then sat at the table. She wanted to tell him about Vinnie and her theory that the Lobisomem may have killed him. She wanted to know what Hal and Alex had found out from the werewolf they went to see. She wondered what Rook's department was doing about the Bermondsey bombing. Their household had been crossing paths like supernatural ships in the night the last couple days, and Allison honestly felt left out.

All too soon, her fork scraped bottom on the potato curry. The change was coming and her appetite had increased, along with her senses. She had wanted to go to the woods with Tom this month, but with extra werewolves in town she probably would be resigned to the basement again. She was glad that Honolulu Heights had a safe place to transform, but ever since she had learned how Tom did it, her inner wolf had been pacing. Almost as if once she knew it could run free, that was all it wanted.

The sound of water coming to a boil caught her attention and she rose to make a mug of tea, placing the empty tupperware and fork in the sink. She had coursework to pursue, but nothing urgent this evening. Maybe if she devoted some time to her supernatural research project, she could make a little more sense of the Lobisomem as a group to discuss with her housemates when they returned. Then maybe she could formulate a response to Vinnie clever enough to sleuth out more information from him.

Allison took her tea with her when she left the kitchen. Stopping briefly to pick up her shoulder bag before heading upstairs, she noticed that Hal's keys were in the dish on the bar. So her flatmates _were_ home. Eagerly, she headed upstairs. Before she reached Hal's landing however, she slowed at the faint sound of a whisper of fabric, and a soft moan. Allison sighed, then crept past to continue to her room. She had already interrupted them once recently. As eager as she was to speak with them, she could wait.

Reaching her room, she pulled her laptop clear and set it on the desk. She needed to see if there was a pattern, and for that, she needed to _see_. She opened her computer files, but then glanced at the brown portfolio folder tucked into the corner of her desk. In it were all of the printouts and clippings from her room at home. She glanced around and frowned. Each of the walls in her room now was broken by something. Wardrobe, door, window… For what she had in mind, she would need space to spread out.

Decided, Allison gathered up her tea, the folder and some tape from her desk, then headed back downstairs. Tomorrow she would print out the pertinent articles from her computer, but tonight she could at least see what she had.

The dining and living room shared much of the same problem of open wall space as her room, with one exception. Allison set her materials down on the table, and glanced around to be certain. She opened the folder and began to spread the clippings out, quickly sorting the werewolf reports. As she faced the wall opposite the dining table, the palm tree mural glowed back at her. She taped the first clipping right over the most prominent frond.

* * *

Pockets of light pooled from windows, the sounds and smells of supper quietly peppering the street, but between shadows, the neighborhood was still. Mike Nave stood outside of Honolulu Heights, same as he had done for many nights not so long ago. The only difference now was that he was not alone. As the sleek sedan pulled up behind him and parked, he remained where he was, gaze up at the the house that had so completely changed his life.

"Is McNair back yet?" Always bluntly down to business, his boss asked, shutting his car door. Nave shook his head.

"Not yet," but as he said it, the sound of running footsteps could just begin to be heard approaching swiftly from down the block. "Sure you okay on your own?" Nave asked as Rook started up the walk.

The blonde man paused, then nodded. "Yorke has started to trust me. We'll see about tomorrow."

Nave nodded once, then faded back to the shadows.

* * *

Tom bolted up the walk. He had to tell Hal - he had to tell Allison! He had to -

He caught the hint of a familiar scent and Rook stepped into the light, hovering just outside the front door, his grey suit and posture impeccable as always. Tom came to a swift halt. The blonde man smiled at having surprised him. _That was twice today!_ He was off his game, to be sure.

"Mr. McNair, so nice to see you."

"What are you doing here?" Tom's tone came out more confrontational than he meant, past polite. Was Rook sneaking into their house now too?

"I was hoping to have a word with yourself and Mr. Yorke. May I join you inside?"

Tom looked Rook up and down, considering, then glanced towards the street. He didn't see any other members of Rook's department lurking about, so he was probably here alone. Tom couldn't think of a reason not to invite Rook in since he was human and all. And it would be impolite to find out what he wanted while standing here on the stoop. Tom shrugged, "Yeah, alright."

Allison was seated at the dining table when they came in, face alight and eager for Tom, then concerned at the sight of their guest. She stood and crossed the room towards them.

"What's going on? What happened? When I got your note -"

"Is Hal still home?" Tom asked, quickly interrupting Allison's stream of questions.

"Well, yes," she answered with a little hesitation, glancing once more to Rook.

"Hal!" Tom shouted towards the stairs. Turning back to Rook, he tilted his head, curious. His department wouldn't have been able to get close to the Route without being sensed, but apparently, Rook knew he wouldn't have to. Remembering his manners Tom reluctantly asked, "D'ya want for tea?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you." Rook answered but remained standing stiffly in the entry. Alex appeared next to the sofa in the living room and her eyes immediately widened at the sight Rook.

"What the hell is he doing here? He follow you home?" She asked Tom. He didn't think Rook could have followed him on account that he was already here, so he just shrugged. She disappeared again.

At Rook's questioning look Allison said, "that was just Alex. What _are_ you doing here, Mr. Rook?"

Before he formulated an answer, the floorboards creaked above and Hal's footsteps descended the stairs. "Most of our colleagues ring before dropping in, Dominic. Especially at ungodly hours," he said as he joined them in the foyer barefooted and with damp hair. Alex came to take her customary lean against the bar.

"Hardly. It's barely past nine," Rook scoffed, straightening his already perfect posture, but a gleam played at the edge of his eyes like this was a shared joke.

"Mr. Rook you must be here for a reason?" Allison prodded, too curious to restrain herself.

"Most astute Miss Larkin," Rook answered with a complimentary smile. "Tom has just returned from a most historic meeting."

"How'd you even-?" Tom started then shook his head. "Cor' you knew. Nevermind."

"I was hoping to speak with you on the matter. And since you are the only Types we have worked with on this, I thought it best to discuss together, in person. Please, forgive the intrusion," he added, meeting Hal's gaze.

"Fine, if you must. But not in the foyer." Hal held an arm out towards the dining table, "Please, sit."

Alex looked between Hal and Rook then sighed. "I'm gonna just go and make up some tea. Looks like you'll need it." She gave Hal a pointed look then headed to the kitchen. She stopped before leaving the room, however, and cocked her head curiously, making Tom glance at what had given her pause. News articles were posted in a widening cluster over the blue beach mural, some connected with red lines of string. Since Alex & Hal had been upstairs, this had to have been Allison's doing. Tom thought that maybe it was for one of her school assignments, except Alex raised an eyebrow and shot a look back at Allison. As the ghost caught her eye, Allison cleared her materials off the table and said, "You had better make a pot."

Alex shrugged then pushed through the kitchen doors, making them swing. Rook sighted the display as well, his eyes flickering only briefly to note the ghostly movement of the doors. He perused the wall with an examining glance, then sat down across from it. Allison followed, taking the seat next to him. Tom was behind her carrying an extra chair. He set it down then took the seat next to Allison.

"S'for Alex," he said, feeling it necessary to explain himself to their guest.

Hal pulled the chair out next to Rook further than necessary, then sat at a slight distance. Tom noted that his friend made the blonde man nervous, his blue eyes sharply darting at Hal's proximity. Rook tried to hide it, folding his hands casually to rest on the table while he returned his gaze to the mural.

"What 'ave you been up to Allison?" Tom asked, knowing he sounded overly loud, but unable to contain himself when facilitating conversation.

"I am familiar with many of these cases," Rook stated, perusing the wall. "Though some, I am not, remarkably." He turned to face Allison. "You did this?"

Allison bit her lip, in rare shyness. Tom knew her research of supernaturals is what brought them together, but he hadn't realized she was still pursuing it all. She glanced at her wall of articles, then took a deep breath. "I've been gathering stories for some time now, trying to find clues about us. First, it was all in an attempt to find the one who gave me this," she raised her shoulder, indicating her clawed scars. "And then, just to learn about our world. The connections. If there were a Pack somewhere. Just how, exactly, the curse was carried. If there were a cure, perhaps." Mr. Rook had raised an eyebrow but Allison forged ahead, "my question still stands you know. About accessing the Archive?"

"What are your intentions? To write a thesis?" he asked her.

"Knowledge can be an end in its own, Mr. Rook. Tonight however, I have been trying find a connection between your Lobisomem and the current gathering in Barry."

"Most remarkable," Mr. Rook uttered, looking a little surprised.

"You did not, however, come here to query Allison." Hal prodded.

"Indeed, Mr. Yorke." Rook answered. He turned his inquisitive gaze back to Tom, who held himself deadpan under Rook's scrutiny. "You met them," he declared. "You know who is involved."

Tom looked blankly at Rook for a moment, wondering if he could stall. "What do you mean 'who' is involved?"

"Who is rallying? And to what end? I'm sure you understand the significance."

Tom pursed his lips together, wondering if and how much he should tell Rook. He had wanted to tell Hal and ask him what he should do, since Hal usually had a pretty good idea about these things. He hadn't anticipated Rook being alongside for the process. Hal seemed to trust him though - enough that he had agreed to help by traveling to the Hebrides. "Milo," Tom stated then slid his gaze to Hal.

"Snow's henchman?" Hal huffed. "Interesting."

"Yeah. He's pulled a bunch of werewolves together and is planning for something on the full moon… Though I don't think he's the leader."

"What makes you say that?" Rook asked, leaning in towards Tom as Alex returned with the tea. Rook kept his composure despite the floating tray, even as she levitated it to the center of the table. She took the empty chair next to Hal and leaned in, setting her elbows on the table.

"Milo, as in that big guy with the Old Ones?" Alex asked Hal, who answered her with a small nod.

"Well," Tom paused, looking for the right word to answer Rook's question, then shrugged. "He's no alpha."

At the confused looks from Rook and Alex, Hal elaborated for Tom. "Milo's a second. He is always working for someone else, you mean."

"And he used to work for the Old Ones?" Allison asked to clarify, surprised at this development.

"Yeah," Tom nodded. "He's a right bully, but he only seemed interested in saving his own skin. So there's got to be someone pulling his chain."

"Did he give any indication of who that would be?" Rook asked and Tom shook his head.

"He played the part though. He talked all grandly of the revolution - of it being our time. That the vampires -" Tom paused and looked to Hal, who remained encouragingly impassive so he continued. "The vampires had tried to expose us and it was time for retribution. Werewolves are coming together, Mr. Rook."

"Did he direct you to somewhere to go for transformation?" Hal asked.

Tom furrowed his brow. "Yeah, he did actually. Those who want to be involved are all to meet inside the Pleasure Park." Hal and Rook exchanged a quick glance, the blond man's mouth hardening into a line.

"But that's right in the thick of everything - there are shops - and _houses_ just yards away!" Allison interjected.

"I know that, and they know that. It be the point. The werewolves want to take over Barry - on camera."

"The park walls will hardly contain them," Hal shook his head, disbelieving. "How could an entire group be stupid enough to expose themselves like that? They'll draw a mob within an hour. Or less."

"Cuz they think they'll draw the vampires too is why."

"They won't. The vampires will toast their demise. If anything, this seems to be more and more of _your_ problem - not ours." Hal looked pointedly at Rook, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You are correct that this is very much my problem. Mitigating potential casualties by removing the civilians from the area is certainly something we can do. For now. Afterwards however, it will be the problem of all supernaturals. But each one of you has the potential to keep this problem from occurring at all." He paused, then looked to Allison. "I'm curious if you found a connection with your research, Miss Larkin?"

Allison straightened in her seat, then tucked an errant curl behind her ear, caught off guard by Rook's question. "Not _exactly_ from my research, but yes. I believe I have."

"Oh?" Rook tilted his head and raised a curious eyebrow.

"Does the name Vinicius de Rocha Batista mean anything to you?"

Rook's brow furrowed with a momentary puzzled expression, then his lips parted slightly. "The Brazilian anthropologist? We had our eye on him, but his claims aren't taken seriously."

"Well you didn't keep your eye on him long enough. He's dead," Allison stated bluntly, letting her words sink in before continuing. "I think the Lobisomem killed him. He closed in on the Pack somehow, and they must have staged his automobile accident."

"Wait - who is this Batista fellow?" Tom asked.

"Vinnie. I had been looking into finding your pack for you," Allison answered Tom, meeting his questioning look. "Before we knew what the Lobisomem were up to. I knew how much it meant to you, if I could find out there really was a pack out there. Vinnie is - was, a professor who had been studying the mythology of the area."

Tom beamed, reaching for Allison's hand, "That's brilliant! You have an in with the Lobisomem? Except… how you been talking to him if he's dead?"

"Same way you talk to me," Alex stated bluntly. "He's a ghost."

"Oh. Ghost, yea." Tom started fingering his placemat. Taking note of the stall in conversation, Hal poured their forgotten tea, offering it around. Tom took a cup from him gladly but Rook declined and Hal held his gaze before keeping the cup to himself.

"He hasn't been forthcoming however," Allison continued. "He's acting like he's still pursuing his research."

"Have you asked him directly?"

"No! Of course not. That would certainly be odd. 'Hi I'm a werewolf and by the way, are you a ghost?' Right."

"You said you found evidence of his demise. Perhaps you should," Rook offered.

"Why do you need us to help you? Don't you have a bloody operative directly with the Lobisomem?" Alex asked. Hal raised an eyebrow then repeated her question to Rook.

"Miss Millar is correct. We do," he answered. "But mysteriously, he claims nothing is amiss."

Rook turned back to Tom. "There weren't any Brazilians present tonight." Rook stated it as fact.

Tom thought about it, then shook his head, "Naw, I don't think so."

Rook regarded Tom, then moved his gaze to Allison. Finally, he settled on Hal. "I would like to employ your assistance. We have already discussed how you may be able to cauterize part of the situation," Rook stated and Hal said nothing, his fingers wrapping around the teacup with care so Rook moved on. "Allison can explore her contact with Vinnie, and Tom, you can act as if nothing is amiss. See if you can gain the confidence of this Milo. We have five days." Rook sat up a little straighter and looked away, seemingly examining their piano. "You have an unusual, but functionary situation here in Barry. I implore you to help us keep it as such," he stated his simple case, and returned his gaze to the table.

"Our unusual situation keeps our lives functionary with little damage to others. The only way to retain that _function_ is by staying out of all this," Hal argued darkly. His gaze, stern and piercing, stared Rook down.

"Unless this group is successful," Rook countered. "Unless Barry becomes the epicenter of supernatural exposure. Something you have already stopped from happening once."

"At a heavy cost," Hal answered.

"There's a training tomorrow. Milo may come," Tom offered, eager to break the tension between Hal and Rook. He didn't know what Rook had asked his mate to do, but it was obvious Hal was reluctant. Tom however, wanted to help. He didn't want werewolves to go exposing themselves, killing and scarring up innocents - not in his town, or otherwise. Allison had said before there would be lynchings and mobs. He didn't want all that. How'd she be able to finish school if that happened? Tom wanted to help - all he ever wanted to do was to help.

He thought of young Begley - so eager for information. So eager to kill his first vampire. Yet maybe all this needed to stop. Maybe they could just go back to ignoring one another? Milo thought they had a way to take out the vampires. It sure would make the world a safer place if they could. But would that mean something would happen to Hal then too? Tom wished he had a way of knowing what they were going to do. Tom wished he wasn't so conflicted. McNair had asked him to stop after his death; to walk away from their so-called war. But war, it seemed, kept finding him.

"Associating with Milo is not a good idea," Hal stated, shaking Tom from his thoughts.

"Naw, but Mr. Rook is right," Tom answered. "Milo half trusts me already. He wants to use me."

"And you wish to be used?" Hal argued and Tom shook his head.

"I want to help. We can't let 'em do this. There'll be mobs and lynchings - like Allison said. And what if they really can get to the vampires? What if they get to you?"

Hal shook his head, his jawline clenching. "There is much supposition and not nearly enough fact in this," his tone was commanding as he turned to Rook. "The debt between us has been paid, and I believe that I have made my stance clear. We all have business to attend to in the morning. You should go." He stood to make his point and Rook followed suit, huffing under his breath irritatedly. A flush of red dappled his cheeks, but he clearly wanted to remain on Hal's good side as he swallowed his argument. Tom stood as well, as he was pretty sure that was what one did in polite situations. Mr. Rook had hardened his mouth again, glancing at him as he pushed his chair in.

"You will call if you find-" Rook started, then stopped himself. "Of course."

He left as suddenly as he had come. As soon as his clipped steps retreated down the walk, Tom turned to Hal. "What was that? You really want all this to just go ahead and happen?"

"I told you," he answered tersely, referring to their earlier conversation.

"That prophecy is over and done. So's what's the matter?" Tom pressed. Alex leaned her head into her hand, elbow on the table while her eyes followed Hal's agitated pace around the living room.

"Yeah Hal," she sided with Tom. He was acting ridiculous.

Allison turned back to the mural with her clippings and little lines of string, excited, "What if we really can help? I can email Vinnie tonight and -"

"Do what you must. I have to go," Hal left them to return abruptly upstairs. Both Allison and Tom looked to Alex as if she could interpret him.

She just shrugged. "Rook may not act like it, but he's still a human. It gets to him after a wee bit."

Tom furrowed his brow, realizing she meant Hal's self-control. He remembered how rough their trip to London was on him and how eventually, the exposure was just too much and they had to force him outside to fresh air. Rook however, was just one person. They certainly seemed argumentative with each other though.

"If he doesn't want to or _can'_ t get involved that's fine. But Allison's right. If we can still help then maybe we should. Let's webmail this Vinnie guy."

Allison nodded, gathered up her things and they all headed upstairs. She showed them her exchange with Vinnie on her laptop. Then, after several wordier attempts, they crafted a simple response.

_Vinnie,_

_My close encounter was closer than I let on. I now have to make some very special monthly arrangements. In trying to find out more about you, I came across some disturbing news, which led me to believe your encounter was closer than you let on, as well. I am afraid of the methodology that the Lobisomem employ to contain their secrets. I'm also afraid they no longer wish to retain those secrets. Here, word of their kind is spreading away from myth, to news._

_If you have any insight, it would be appreciated._

_Allison_


	19. Sociopaths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._   
>  _Reviews are love._
> 
> * * *

The weight in her lap was comforting, but the novel couldn't hold her attention. Alex had been slowly working her way through Hal's collection of Dickens the past couple weeks, yet tonight, she couldn't bring herself to read. Hal had launched into a flurry of housework after Rook left, brooding and silent while he changed their bedding, cycled laundry, and tidied the bathroom. The hour had finally grown into the actual ungodly side of things, but she could understand. The conversations of the past two days, along with the people they had met, kept circling her thoughts. Something about meeting Carl this morning, something she couldn't quite place, had unnerved her.

And Adam, who was also 'off the blood'. His efforts were aided through Yvonne's influence apparently, but still; Hal wasn't alone in his propensity for vampiric teetotaling.

In stark contrast was Hal's old partner Richard. He was a vampire that made her want to agree with Hal's stance on Eve's prophecy. The look he had given her was like he could drain her dry and make her love every second of it in the process. It was a look she had seen before... Alex shivered, letting her gaze slide over Hal while he completed his regular evening routine. She had been right about him earlier. Hal had been visibly more relaxed after their interlude, and even seemed to handle Rook with more of an even temperament, until the end anyways. Mid sit-up, he caught her watching him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, then dropped back down.

"Yeah. It's just… Carl," she admitted to one of the thoughts that had plagued her.

"What of Carl?"

"Well… for one, he said you were quote, 'older than America' unquote."

"I am older than America," Hal agreed while executing ridiculously perfect form.

"I know… it's just… sometimes I get this rush of context about you. Everything you've seen, experienced."

"Mildly late to have that bother you, is it not?"

"Har-har," she mock laughed. "That's not what I meant. Just…" she paused, blushing a bit at her own admission, "how incredible you are. It's a shame really - that your existence has to be so secret. Why can't the world know about vampires?"

"History has repeatedly shown the discovery of _any_ of our kind leads to witch trials. Humanity, at its core, can be most brutal. Especially when it comes to things beyond comprehension. I wouldn't last a day," he huffed, his words punched by sit-ups.

"You mean they'd be more interested in dissecting you than talking with you?"

He snorted a laugh, "Sometimes I wonder about Rook."

"Oh, I think he's already fully satisfied that curiosity. That archive was outrageous," she joked, trying to make light of a dark situation.

"The extent of their collection was... impressive. It explains how he knows so much," Hal admitted, pausing briefly, then continued with his count.

"No way he could read all that. He said they had been keeping supernatural secrets nearly as long as you had…" Alex contemplated. "The Men in Grey have been around awhile then too," she concluded and Hal didn't respond, breathing with his movements. She decided to broach another angle of her thoughts. "It was interesting to meet others like you. Vampires, trying to be good. Trying to live normal."

"Trying to be human?"

"Yeah. That," she laughed. "Why don't more try it?"

"I'm sure plenty do, but it is near impossible to do on your own. Nor is the lifestyle particularly encouraged."

"You taught Carl."

"He told you that?" Hal smirked. "I should not have left you two alone."

"Who taught you?"

Hal stopped, coming to rest with his hands clasped over his knees. "No one did. Not really."

"But you just said it's impossible to do on your own."

"I had been held captive… centuries ago. For six months," he shook his head and looked away, the memory obviously bothering him. "It was a general belief that the hunger would drive one mad, or worse. When I escaped my confines and found my facilities to be remarkably, intact, I grew curious. It wasn't long after that I made my first attempt by choice. Which, is why I know it is near impossible to achieve alone."

"Grimsay," Alex said out loud, suddenly connecting his story to her dream. Hal's eyes darkened and he looked away. _Oops_. Alex pursed her lips, hoping that he realized she could have surmised the connection from their conversation this morning.

"Yes, Grimsay," he acknowledged then stood, turning to face the laundry he had sorted on the bed. His stack of vests, laid out flattened against each other like pieces of paper so they cooled without wrinkling, were quickly folded, alongside his carefully rolled collection of boxers. Alex had made the mistake of helping with the laundry a couple weeks ago. Hal had refolded every piece she had touched, so she had no qualms about keeping her sprawl over the sofa now. He started putting things away, still without saying anything further on the matter of Grimsay and Alex sighed. She tried once more to turn her attention back to the book in her lap.

Hal did not want to think about Grimsay. The extroverted attentions of the past day had caught up to him tonight. He did not wish to contemplate Carl. Or Tibet. Or the mess of horrors that came after. Hal needed to hone his attention into someone else's story. With only the briefest of thought, he selected a faded title, its cover and binding functional but worn. Swift was transportive, which he needed tonight. He felt like reading, but since Alex had already fully coveted the sofa, he prepared for bed. He removed his shirt and trousers, folded them to sit on the chair, then pulled back the blankets. Sitting upright against the pillows, he tucked the blankets around his waist and began to read.

Mere pages after, he felt her weight on the mattress and he pointedly kept reading. He really did not wish to renew their previous conversation. But when she tugged at the covers and then slid under beside him, he felt that she too had prepared for bed. The warmth of her skin welcomed, he drew her close and wrapped his free arm around her bare shoulders, but he continued to read.

She kissed his shoulder, he turned a page. Her hand slid across his stomach to his waist and he retaliated by turning towards her to halt her immediate reach. He tucked his chin over her fringe, holding the book aloft behind her head. Alex huffed her indignation at being ignored, then did something he truly didn't expect.

She tickled him.

Throatily, deeply he laughed. He had anticipated her advance, but not _that_. He reciprocated one handed, keeping his novel at arms length. Alex squirmed, giggling and fighting until she caught his hand and her breath. Smiling widely and meeting his eyes she said, "You should do that more oft. Its lovely."

"Win at tickling you? Alright," he taunted back at her.

"Nae silly - laugh."

Suddenly serious, their eyes locked. With everything that was going on, she had made him momentarily forget, and laugh. Not in cruelty or jest, but with sincerity. Had he truly relaxed with her as much as this? Her hand was pressed against his sternum and she flattened her palm against him. Hal tipped his book out of the way, behind his head to kiss her softened mouth. She responded eagerly, returning his kiss with a stark passion. Despite their conversation, despite Carl, despite the cliff of his past they had nearly dived off into, Alex still _wanted_ him. Her hand slid over his waist to the small of his back, spreading her palm wide and pressing against his spine as if she knew the effect. The book slipped from his fingers to land with a thump on the floor as he brought his hand to her waist.

He had wrestled with this for so long but knew. He had known for weeks now. He didn't want to be involved with Rook or vampires or revolutions, and the risk of blood was only one of his reasons. He didn't want any of _this_ to change. Alex wasn't merely another addiction to add to his list. She was so much more. He didn't want to lose her.

When his book hit the floor so carelessly, so un-Hal-like, something broke free in Alex. She couldn't deny the power that she held over him; this beautifully complicated immortal _person_. This person whom she had come to love despite all of his flaws and complications. She realized why she had been mulling over Carl so heavily. That it wasn't Carl himself, but what he stood for. The way he had looked at Hal; with respect, admiration and love. Alex realized that she wasn't crazy. She wasn't merely anchored and tied through this strange bond they shared. She had fallen for Hal Yorke, irrevocably, and quite some time ago.

She wrapped her leg over his, rubbing against the hardness straining against his pants and Hal made a small moan against her mouth. He pushed his hip into her, forcing her to turn so he could straddle her. His erection pulsed against her belly and she arched up to keep kissing him. To keep his taste on her lips, the quickening of their breath, the swell of feeling between them - all this, and to convey how she felt about it, him - _them_. It didn't matter that they had engaged mere hours ago - this wasn't just sex or play or distraction. This was different.

She tugged at the waistband of his pants and his breath came quicker. He retaliated by reaching past hers and slipping a finger into her. Alex gasped and he deepened his efforts, all while kissing her and stroking feather-light across her breasts and side.

She wanted to tell him, she wanted him to know how she felt but he was taking her breath away. She could lose herself in this weight of sensation; of his intoxifying scent and the heat they built together so quickly. She nearly did, until his feather-light touch across her side alarmingly returned to tickle her.

"Gah!" she shrieked, angry and delighted all at once.

Hal cocked her a sly smile. "I win," he gloated as he tugged her knickers down, dropping his kisses down her belly. His tongue swirled through her navel, still riding that line of pleasure and torment.

"So much for Gulliver," she teased, under her breath as his kisses trailed further.

"I've read it before," he countered, removing his pants. He settled between her legs and she hugged his waist with her knees, drawing him to her. Hal, it seemed, still wished to torment her for tickling him. He remained pressed against her, just outside of reach as he trailed kisses across and back up her belly. He restrained the circling of her hips and pressed the tiniest bit more, easing into her as he kissed her breast, then took the nipple into his mouth.

Pleasure and want crashed over her in a wave and she strained to draw him deeper. She ran both hands spread and yearning over the muscles of his back. He released one hip, but retreated a fraction, his free hand supporting his weight. Moving to her other breast he pivoted his hips to come the barest bit deeper, still restraining her from arching up to meet him. When his kisses reached her neck, it was to the briefest relief of the head of his cock to slip into her, but still, he only circled, maddening her. He was kissing and sucking at her neck but Alex didn't care. He was doing it because he _could_ and she could feel his ecstasy as shivers ran through her. The want she had for him felt like it would stretch into forever. Her center, her very soul ached in impatience for him.

Hal moved lower and kissed the base of her throat in an attempt to slow his movements. He dropped his head to rest over her chest and her rising heartbeat reverberated through him with incredible loudness. His chest, his throat, his skull all constricted with that delicious sound.

He wanted to consume her. He wanted to shred through - to claim that heart as his own. To taste her pulsing life.

Yet, he _knew_ it was a mirage, an illusion. The reality of Alex's heart was that it wasn't really there. It only seemed so to him. This was the logic that kept his monster at bay - most of the time. But sometimes, he wondered if she seemed and felt that real to him, then maybe her heart would be too. Except, if that was real, then Alex would be dead. And he didn't want that. Even if it was already true.

She held him, coaxing him, making irresistibly small moans at the back of her throat and he returned his mouth and attention to the exquisite softness of her breasts. Sucking at the nipple, he slammed to penetrate her fully, hitting that cradled, yearning spot of _home_ and she cried out.

Thoughts of consuming her heart lessened. He already had her, and she, him.

In their rhythm together, she soothed his tattered edges. In their joining, he gave her power over him. He could weep with the knowledge. Everyone he had ever loved eventually met a tragic end.

They were doomed.

* * *

_A lone figure sat, sagged and broken at the center of the room. His hands and feet were lashed with a dense, rough rope to a heavy wood chair. His tan shirt was splotched dark with someone else's blood, a bright beacon tantalizingly_ irritating. _Now that the carpet was rolled tidily away from harm, they could begin. The man's lithe frame and fine-boned wrists seemed fragile. Even without seeing his face, this 'Carl Corinth' seemed too far gone. He barely flinched when struck._

" _Why are you here?"_

_The fire in the hearth was hot, smoky and close. Outside, a storm raged, the wind howling. The vampire tied to the chair was sweating._

" _Please," his voice cracked. "I only need a little. I get by on so little."_

" _There's nothing for you here." Shoving up on his forehead, he forced his captive to look at him. He held the vampire's hazy gaze with willful force and asked again, "Who sent you here?"_

 _Carl closed his eyes against his inquisition and swallowed with difficulty, dropping his head back down when released._ "Who _sent you? Do not make me ask again."_

_Carl remained silent. Either from injury or pride, it wasn't clear. Turning away, he crouched at the hearth, briefly embracing its heat before he pulled the orange glowing tip clear of the the coals and stood. Iron being dragged across stone clattered against the wind, the sound threatening. Standing over the captive vampire one moment, two, until eventually he braved to look up. Beautiful eyes widened in fear and only then did he move. Lunging in to push Carl forcibly against the chair, he held the glowing tip of the fire poker just over the tender base of his throat._

" _Who sent you?" The question was almost conversational this time. Never mind the threatening iron dangerously close to bare skin. Carl's eyes flicked to meet his captor's, hesitantly, possibly wondering if he was bluffing._

_Hal wasn't bluffing._

_Holding the gaze he simply shifted his weight, and the heated iron tip met skin. For half a moment, it seemed Carl wouldn't budge. His lip quivered, eyes tightening in pain, obviously trying to keep from crying out. With a lovingly slow turn of wrist, the iron tip rolled, spinning a low burning trail across the base of Carl's throat. The scent of scorched flesh hit his senses, acrid and thick and finally Carl's scream curdled out of him._

" _No one!" he gasped, fangs dropping in defense._

_Backing off ever so slightly, Hal waited. He could be very patient, but not today. Not here. Not when he had come so far. Steam rose from the singed skin, welting. Correctly sensing he only had seconds, the restrained vampire sobbed, "No one sent me. I sent myself. Ivan -"_

_Hal growled,_ "Ivan _sent you?"_

" _I went to him for help," Carl whispered The burn on his throat was already lightened, healing but Hal kept the poker close enough that the young vampire could still feel the threat of heat._

" _Help with what?" Hal's tone was commanding._

" _He couldn't help me, not really," Carl bemoaned. "But he's the one who told me to find you. Said you were in Kathmandu. You weren't." Carl met Hal's eyes, delirious, "but I didn't stop looking."_

" _Help. With._ What?"

" _To quit. All this," Carl wheezed a breath. "To go off blood," he whispered, then a spasm shook through his slender frame. "Oh God - its not possible!"_

_Hal blinked. Slowly, he lowered his weapon but kept his leverage against the vampire's shoulder._

" _Kill me - stake me - please! - if you don't believe me. I don't care. I can't do this anymore. I just can't," Carl pleaded, shaking his head. "Its agonizing."_

" _How did you find me?"_

" _I didn't. I swear I didn't. I had given up. You just found me."_

* * *

She woke tangled with him; her head on his chest, his chin in her hair and arm heavy across her shoulders. His uninjured leg was straddled pleasantly between hers, but Alex was deeply glad he was still asleep. Home, bed, Hal's arms - her surroundings should be comforting, except… In her dream those arms had shown such coldness. Such cruelty. If Hal had taught Carl, then it made sense he had been dry himself at the time. Could this dream have come from a time when Hal was supposedly dry? A revelation that it didn't all come from the monster he fought?

Alex shuddered. The tender way he was holding her in sleep was at complete odds with what she had just seen. Carl went through _that_ \- yet, loved him. Carl had ended up falling in love with Hal. What was this great power he had over people? What was this spell he had over _her_? If these dreams she kept having were true, then she was in love _with_ a monster.

And yet... Carl still clearly respected Hal. He even must have shared their story with Davi. Maybe all vampires were capable of such cruelty. Maybe all vampires deserved to be wiped out by Eve's prophecy, like Hal believed. Maybe. Somehow, Alex didn't think that was the case. Cutler had certainly seemed cruel. And crazy, but cruel nonetheless. And his henchman who nabbed her... But Carl and Adam - neither had struck her as cruel. They both seemed content to be abstaining from blood and living their lives peacefully. Alex just didn't know. There wasn't a black and white to this. Even Carl had apparently killed someone close, and Adam was under Yvonne's influence.

But she was in love with Hal. She, Alex Millar, was in love with a murdering sociopath. Sure, she had always had a tendency towards the bad bloke, but even without the dreams what she knew of Hal was that he was light years beyond on the bad seed scale. So, what did that make her? Adam and Carl had both seemed so even-keeled. She supposed from the outside, so did Hal. She had first been drawn to him because he seemed so ridiculously dorky and _normal_. But just how constant was the battle? How often did the sociopath - his monster - win?

However, wasn't a sociopath someone who operated outside of the rules and beliefs of society? By that definition, then weren't _all_ supernaturals sociopaths? Tom, Adam, Yvonne, Christa, Carl, Davi, even Annie, and definitely even Rook… but not Allison. She, at least, seemed to remain pretty "normal" despite all this. But what of herself? Was it that her and Allison were just so new to this life? How long would it be before _she_ was justifying killing and torturing people?

If she counted vampires as people, and obviously she did, then the slip had already started to happen. When Cutler broke into the house - her murderer! - and was about to kill baby Eve, she couldn't bring herself to stop him. Instead, she had looked to Annie.

Two months later and she had staked a vampire in London alongside the rest of them. The shock and disappointment on that woman's face right before it crumbled… Alex had tried not to think about it.

Just as she had tried not to think too much about Hal. Could the dreams be merely a product of her subconscious, forcing her to face who he was? Were they memories, or dreams of her own making? She had to know. She had to find out before she could talk to him about it.

Alex wondered at a way to explain things long enough that the light had changed. Downstairs, she could hear Allison and Tom stirring. The shower came on, then Tom's electric clippers. Normal sounds on a normal morning, that was completely un-normal. She didn't recall consciously hearing it before, but then again, she was usually still asleep with Hal. He stirred with the sounds however, breathing deeply into her hair, his arm tightening over her side. She wondered if this was how he woke up everyday without an alarm. Maybe it wasn't that he had an uncanny sense of time, but that he had tuned into the sounds around him.

He sighed, seeming to savour her presence. For once, Alex did not goad or prompt him in any way. They hadn't slept much but it was still surprising to her when he seemed to still and return to dozing. She focused on the soft way his stomach moved as he breathed, the warmth between them, the weight of his arm. His scent. It all felt so rich. She felt so completely present in his arms. And so completely not-dead. Was it growing, this bond of theirs? Was she slipping out of herself and into him while they slept? Alex wanted to know what his previous experience or knowledge of a Hangori was, but what she really wanted to know was what happened. How did this end? Did it end? Why were they so rare? He had brushed it off. Said even the Old Ones didn't know much about it. But the way Richard had looked at at her yesterday, so knowingly. Hungrily, even though he knew she was a ghost.

The kettle all the way down in the kitchen broke her thoughts, and Hal stirred again. She wove her fingers through his and tried to show cheer despite her dark introspection. "Heya sunshine."

"Mmm…" he sighed sleepily, then pulled away a bit, rubbing his eyes. He started to sit up and Alex turned onto her back.

"You're not seriously just going to work, are you? After -"

"The world hasn't come to a stop, Alex," he muttered, sitting all the way up. Alex sat up too. "You are on shift today as well, if you recall."

"I know… Its just. Wow. Mundane after everything. A war may be breaking out in our world, but in this one we still have to sort the linens."

"Wars break out nearly every day. And linens will not sort themselves," Hal drawled, reaching for his pants. He returned his forgotten book to the shelf then started to stretch, making his way into his morning routine with more discipline than he had exhibited all week.

"Are you alright?" she asked. He still was moving rather stiffly, but she also wondered if his nightmares had anything to do with why he had left the bed so quickly. He shrugged, then dropped to begin his press ups.

"Just tired," he answered.

When it seemed he was going to focus, Alex decided to get up too. She teleported out of bed and into her attire. She sprawled across the sofa behind him, but Hal was definitely focused, so after a few repetitions she stood.

She teleported to the kitchen where Tom was making breakfast.

"Oi! Hey there Alex," he greeted her cheerfully.

"Hey yourself. What are you doing up on your day off?"

"I'm just helping out Allison since she has to go to class and all, and we all stayed up late talking. We didn't sleep well," he blushed and Alex smiled. Tom was still so belovedly innocent in some ways and she adored him for it.

"Yeah, Hal neither. But we traded today for my um… Saturday so…" Alex still couldn't quite address the day as having been her memorial. It felt just too odd, especially when she felt so solid.

"He alright, you think?" Tom caught her discomfort and tried to change the topic.

"Hal? Yeah, he's fine. As much as usual anyways" she assured. The exchange reminded her of when they both were more equally involved in looking after their captive housemate. She never thought she'd have felt nostalgic for _that_. But it was a time when Tom's friendship was her strength, and they shared a more regular closeness. He was almost a surrogate brother, really. She worried about him. "You still gonna see the pack today?"

Tom nodded, "Yeah. I didn't talk it up or nothing last night, but I'll be teaching more than just the Irish folk."

"You'll be careful, yeah?"

Tom nodded, "Course."

"I mean it Thomas," she insisted and he shrugged off her concern in that bumbling way of his. In a surge of sappiness, she hugged him.

"Hey - paws off!" Allison mocked as she joined them in the kitchen. Alex let go of Tom and grinned. "You'd think handsome McOldy up there would be enough," she added with a sleepy smile, wrapping her arms around Tom's waist from behind. He raised his arms and grinned too.

"Yet I've got me the two ladies of the house fighting o'er."

"Don't let it go to your head," Allison hugged him then turned to rescue her toast.

"McOldy is more than a handful, thank you. Don't ever let him catch you calling him that," Alex laughed.

"Eh yeah, that'd be unpleasant is what," Tom grinned then returned to fixing up breakfast with Allison.

Alex settled in at the table, watching her housemates and enjoying this small moment of normality. Instinctually she knew that it wouldn't matter whether they kept themselves out of the impending revolution or not. Their world was already changing.


	20. Counterbalance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev & Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal. Reviews are love._  
>  
> 
> _Warning for some heavy adult content in this one._
> 
> * * *

The contrast between supernatural-war-conspiracy theorizing, and breakfast at the Barry Grand was so stark it struck as absurd. The world had turned on its end. If Rook's werewolves were successful, then life as they knew it would never be the same. And yet, everything was exactly that; the same.

The same smell of fry-up and coffee permeated the lobby. The same sickly-sweet smile from Megan with a "Mornin Hal!" greeted him as he passed.

Everything was in its place and normality reigned as king. The steady same-ness of it all should be comforting, but it wasn't. Rook's audacity to assume his help was extremely irritating, but Hal knew his refusal was merely prolonging the inevitable. He did not wish to see vampires flooding into Barry by any means. Nor was he all that keen on a werewolf resurgence. Barry had been safe. Barry was their home. After the Old Ones, Barry had practically been a supernatural deadzone. With the exception of Richard's visit, he hadn't sensed a single other vampire in the immediate vicinity. They were steering clear of the vengeful spirit rumoured to have ended the strongest vampires in the western world.

Hal would have to sort a way to dissuade Rook of the idea that he could convince his fellows of anything. Maybe he could determine a covert way to convince the vampires, maybe he couldn't. He just didn't know. But Richard would. His old partner always kept up with which political powers were at play. He would know exactly who could be persuaded to pass a message.

Settling into his office, Hal rubbed his eyes. He was tired, which never helped. And there was a glaring fluorescent note stuck to his desk which was out of sorts. The hotel manager wished to see him this afternoon, after the Barry Business Club meeting they were hosting upstairs concluded. Hal did not usually work Wednesdays for that very reason, so whatever Edwards wished to speak to him about was outside of his weekly report. Just what he needed on top of all else. He would have to figure out a way to get through this day.

He would have to admit it, and soon. This all seemed so petty now, knowing what they did. This farce of being human. _He didn't belong here_ , his inner voice nagged. Hal pulled up the staff matrix. He needed some actual work to take his mind off things. Looking for a project that would give him at least a few hours, he settled on restocking the maintenance cupboard. Maybe he'd give the room a thorough tidy while he was at it. Satisfied with his course of action, Hal removed his jacket.

* * *

When Tom returned to the werewolves warehouse, it was to a softer din of voices than the previous night. In addition to the Gwedores, Tom counted seven new faces seated around a few scattered other wolves in town either already knew how to stake a vampire or hadn't yet decided their involvement.

Milo was not among them.

Maude handed him a warm mug, the steam off the tea rising in curled clouds. It was a cool morning and their warehouse wasn't heated. Irving and Conal were both engaged in separate conversations, but Begley looked up from his bowl of cereal and smiled broadly at him. "Tom!"

"Good morning there Begley," Tom smiled back and Conal glanced his way. The elder man gave him a gruff nod as many of the others landed their eyes on him and a hush settled over their breakfast conversations. Tom suddenly felt shy. He was supposed to teach all of these folk? He didn't know anything about them. Secretly, he was glad not any more had shown up. He only had so many stakes.

Tom set his duffle on an empty chair and his tea on the table in front of him. Every pair of eyes in the room was on him now, and Tom dropped his hands into the pockets of his coat. He remembered his first day of class at the community college, and how the professor had introduced herself, then asked for a show of hands for who had read the chosen material. Tom took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

"Alright then. I'm Tom McNair, if you didn't know that already." Impassive faces stared back at him, except for Begley who kept grinning. Tom was encouraged by the boy's enthusiasm. All these folk were here for him and he wasn't one to let anyone down. Not intentionally anyways. "I've had the wolf me whole life. And my Dad raised me to kill vampires. Who here has ever staked a vampire?"

Conal raised his hand, then hesitantly, one other dark-haired young man in the back, then Irving.

"Who here wants to learn how to do it proper?" Tom asked.

Eleven hands raised high.

* * *

Hal was cleaning out the maintenance cupboard, supplies stacked and waiting on the folding table, when he sensed her approach.

"Hiya Hal," she exclaimed brightly, joining him in the little room.

"Hello Megan," he answered without stopping what he was doing.

"Say... do you have a minute?"

Hal glanced up to where Megan was leaning casually against the folding table, one hand on her hip. She smiled when he met her eyes. Hal stood, taking off his marigolds and setting them on the shelf next to where he had been working. He waited for Megan to prattle through whatever inane thing she was going to, but she just cocked her head.

"You're a curious bloke, you know that?" Megan stated. Hal didn't respond. Maybe if he didn't engage she would leave. Her hair was up today, a few wisps sitting lightly against her neck. Hal tried to look away. Anywhere but at that delicate skin where her pulse beckoned. He started counting the stack of folded towels behind her head.

"You really needn't be mooning after someone you can't have, you know."

"Excuse me?" He returned his gaze to her, momentarily befuddled by her statement.

"You could have any girl here you wanted," she pushed off the table with a sultry smile and took a step towards him. " _Any_."

"And your point is?" Hal tried to sound as utterly bored as he could. He did not need this today. The meeting overhead, with footsteps, voices and the promise of prey, had already been grating against his growing fatigue while he tried to distract himself with work.

Megan arched an eyebrow at him, "Or maybe that's how you like it. I can play that game too." In spite of her words, her fingers were suggestively toying with the collar of her blouse.

As she took a step closer, Hal swallowed, suddenly realizing the brass of this girl's intentions. The scent of her was stronger than usual and quickly filled the room. Mouthwatering. It hit him in the back of his ever-so-parched throat; sharp, sweet and painful. His hunger wracked him heavily - hunger too hollow to be mere memory made his hands to fists, fingernails biting to keep hold. Hal stopped himself from breathing a terrible moment too late. With growing dread, he realized what it was and balked, taking a step back.

"When Sophie said you'd had a fight with Tom, well I couldn't believe it. You two are such chums. But over his speccy girl? I was shocked."

Megan was a mere foot away. Her pulse, clear and strong was drowning out her voice and driving out all reason. The steady flutter at her throat called to him like a compulsion. He knew he should say something, get her to leave, but he couldn't. He was frozen.

"So… she the one you say you've been seeing?"

When Hal didn't answer - he couldn't answer, not daring to open his mouth - Megan misread his silence as encouragement. With a half-cocked smile she leaned in towards him, reaching for his collar. Against his will, Hal took a step forward.

* * *

Rag in hand, Alex stopped mid-swipe of cleaning out a sink. _There._.. There it was again. Out of nowhere she had felt a flicker of desperation. Of _hunger_. The recognition hit her like a blade through her gut, reminding her of the flash she felt on Grimsay. With budding panic, she realized the moment she paused could have been a moment too long.

Alex teleported directly to him. Hal was in the supply room, with Megan. The girl was leaning into him suggestively, hand around his neck. Alex understood the situation in an instant. There was no need nor time for jealousy - she could feel the battle raging in him.

"Hal," she spoke softly, stepping behind him with a steadying grasp of his shoulders. He gave no outward indication that she was there so she dropped her hands down his arms, holding him. He was coiled, tense as stone, muscles rigid in her grasp and hands curled into fists at his sides.

"It would be such an easy thing, you and I," Megan whispered in his ear, her hand trailing down the buttons of his shirt. Hal's eyes had gone wide with alarm. Their overzealous co-worker had no idea how close her throat was to being ripped into. "No one would have to know..."

Alex pulled at his shoulders, "Hal, just back away." She pulled harder, knowing Megan's hand had started to roam towards Hal's waist. "Hal please. This isn't your fault. Just leave."

The movement was small, but Hal began to lean back into Alex ever so slightly. She'd take it.

"We could just," Megan smiled coyly as Hal hitched a breath. Then shockingly, she kissed him, her hand boldly planted on his belt.

Alex didn't know if she heard the soft shift of his teeth, or could merely feel the change taking over him, but she pulled with more force, coaxing him to her. "You don't want to do this. You _don't_."

"Oh, but I do," Hal murmured dangerously, answering Alex as Megan pulled away, looking at him quizzically. However, despite his words, Hal took a small step backwards, retreating from Megan. It was one step into allowing Alex to extract him and she took the give, keeping her grip on him with telekinesis as well as her hands. She could _feel_ how terribly close he was to losing hold on himself all the way through the pit of her belly.

"Please, excuse me," he breathed to Megan, giving Alex one more step. She kept her grip on him, solid and pleading, willing him to back away. He stepped with her, letting her lead him backwards. One step, two, then he turned, forcing his eyes shut and keeping his mouth firmly closed.

"But - you want me. I can tell..." Megan seemed a little flabbergasted to have been denied.

"Let's walk. There we go... here's the door," Alex consoled, ignoring their co-worker. Hal let her lead him out of the room, his arm firmly in her grasp.

The entirety of the short walk to his office she prayed Megan wouldn't follow. She would have to shock Hal, she knew it. He would drop like a cut marionette and then she didn't know how'd she get him out of here. If they could just get past their co-workers in the kitchen and into his office, she could teleport them out. Alex could sense the sudden edge he was up against with every strained step they made. Safety, confinement was in sight. She guided him in and ghosted the door shut behind them, the bolt clicking to lock them in the small office.

When she turned to face him, arms crossed, Hal's posture said everything. Military rigid and poised, he was standing completely still, his eyes closed and jaw tight. He didn't move, didn't breathe. He wasn't even tapping his fingers in counting. The only indication he was aware of her guard between him and the door was a subtle un-clenching of his jaw.

When his eyes opened clear, Alex relaxed slightly, but Hal remained unnaturally still, eyes locked on her. "What just happened?" Her question came out almost too quiet. When he didn't answer, she reached for his shoulder. "Hal?"

His movement was sudden, startling her with a reflex-quick grasp of her wrist and a step forward. Alex hit the door behind heavily, the back of her raised wrist banging with a thwack as he shoved her. She was too surprised to protest, and suddenly very worried. His eyes were eerily vacant, haunted, but his grip was very _painfully_ solid. An icicle of fear pricked up her belly. Hal wasn't just dangerously close to the edge, he was _on the edge_ ; a spun coin in the moment of balance right before the fall.

"Hal," she said again, shakily, cautiously raising her free hand to his chest. At the contact he gave the whisper of a shudder, but tightened his force to keep her against the door. Slowly, Alex inched her hand up, past one button, then the next, aiming towards intentional skin contact. Time seemed to freeze as she braved forth, and all of her senses felt heightened. From the weave of the fabric of his shirt, the coolness of the door against her back and clear to the precipice of control he was balanced on - Alex felt _everything_.

When her fingertips reached the hollow just below his throat, he swallowed, dropping his eyes and breaking the tensioned spell of danger between them. His grip lessened ever so slightly and his hand at her shoulder slid to the base of her throat, mimicking her. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but she could feel that he was still held in balance. His hand trembled as he traced the line of her neck and Alex was encouraged. Just as they had practiced with their trail running, maybe he could still rein himself back from this. She didn't push him away when he leaned into her, his hair brushing past her lips and chin as his head dropped. Shifting his weight, keeping her wrist pressed to the door, his lips met her chest just above the swell of her breasts. The moistness of his mouth trailed up, kissing the hollow of her collar as his fingers, light as cobwebs, caressed the back of her neck. A shimmery tingle dropped through her groin with desire despite the present danger. _How did he do that?_

Her free arm was trapped between them, fingers at the hollow of his throat. She edged her hand past his collar to wrap her fingers over the tenseness of his shoulder, then up to his jaw where she pushed against his chin, forcing him to look at her. His eyes weren't black, but had definitely darkened with lust. There was something primal in his held gaze, something that gave way with a shudder as he kissed her. His fingers combed up through her hair in delicious yearning, but an underlying desperation in his movements told her that he was trying to keep hold.

Alex put her strength into kissing him back, stoking their passion instead of his precarious rage. He still held her pinned against the door, but his hand at her neck dropped with the heat of their kiss. Smoothing over the rise of her breasts and tugging her zipper down, he opened her jacket and shoved the material free of her arm, kissing her all the while. Her jacket fell from her shoulder and his hand kept going. Over the silk of her skirt, his thumb pressed into her pubic bone as he cupped her, practically lifting her. Alex hitched a jolted moan which only spurred him on. He hooked under her thigh, lifting her leg and Alex opened to him, the weight of his hips shifting into her groin as she nudged her knee up past his, inviting his hardness to press against her.

"Alex," his voice was a broken growl between kisses. She raised her knee more, boot stroking the back of his leg and he ground into her. She could feel his fingers stroking against the fabric at her inner thigh and writhed in response.

For a moment, they were poised. Hal's kiss slowed, he sucked at her bottom lip then pulled back.

"Just tell me a free room," Alex offered huskily.

Hal closed his eyes, still not fully composed. He couldn't think straight. _Not after nearly… not with her so precariously close and all the heartbeats overhead._

The coin fell.

He renewed the full heft his weight into her, holding her up as he cradled her thigh. He caught the fabric that was only real to them, and her eyes widened in alarm when it ripped. One-handed, he freed himself from the constraint of his trousers. Startlingly-quick the laced lingerie she died in was brushed aside as he thrust into her. It was such a small release for him, but Alex gasped, her leg tightening over his waist to keep hold. Hal freed her wrist to pull her jacket the rest of the way off and then caught her hips, gaining a better purchase. Alex staggered, ramming her hand into the corner wall of his small office for counterbalance. Her eyes were questioning his as he cupped her ass, lifting her higher and supporting her weight as he retreated, then buried himself deeper.

The rhythm of his thrusts increased. It wasn't like him, pressing and forceful. The shock was startling but he only deepened his strokes. Dizzyingly urgent, Alex could feel the shuddering thread of their bond, tight and impaling them both. The lifeline beating between them full of a quickened feeling; her weight and the filling friction of his movement in her. And underneath it all his desperation pushing through and lifting her up, relentless. She came in blinding surprise with him, in shocked spasms wrapping around him and crying out. They nearly slipped; her grip on him was a difficult thing, and his fingers bit into her skin, sharp and bruising as he caught her bare arm.

The catch made him stop, frozen and deeply buried in her. Hal had her pinned and time once more seemed to halt. The surface against her back was cold and hard, their position precarious. She barely wanted to breathe or utter a sound for fear of tipping the balance, but slowly, carefully, she brought her hand to his hair. His breath was ragged at the touch but he leaned into her and dropped his face to her chest, cheek against her breast as he caught his breath. He trembled as he released his iron grip on her. When he lifted his head again and opened his eyes, it wasn't to look at her, but at his fingers. She felt his muscles tense; his stomach tightened and his exhale was a shuddered sob. She turned to see what she couldn't have in her peripheral vision.

 _Blood_. It was barely there, but the nails of his index and middle fingers were reddened. He had drawn blood. Her non-existent, post-corporeal blood. Hal's trembling increased, his whole body seemed to shiver and harden against her.

"Hal," she hazarded and he winced his eyes shut.

His voice came out haggard and choked. "Home. _Now._ " As if emphasizing his point, his eyes opened to full, monstrous black.

Instantly, they were home, pressed against the back of his door. He faltered, nearly losing their balance, but his eyes blinked clear. After several slowing breaths he slipped free of her and eased away, adjusting his pants. Her foot touched down as he let her go and Alex caught hold of him for steadiness. He seemed unresponsive and dazed, so she pushed him, leaning with a little force. She kept pushing, guiding them both to the bed where he hit and sank, still keeping his reddened fingers aloft. Alex couldn't tell if she was still bleeding, but didn't think it mattered. She held him, her arms wrapped around him while his knees pressed against her thighs. He suddenly seemed to wake from his trance and started to fight against her, but Alex held her ground, arms hugged around his. His struggle was weak, or else she really had grown stronger, and he shuddered again as she held onto him and hugged his head to her chest.

Eventually, he stilled and each breath grew more even. She could almost feel him mentally counting. She was mentally counting with him. At a hundred and nine, she hazarded to ask, "Are you okay?"

"Am _I_ okay? Jesus Alex," he sputtered. He lifted his head away from her chest and she let him, cautiously loosening her hold. His eyes were deeply sad as they flicked to her bare arm. Her _bare_ arm which began to sting as soon as his attention was upon it. She had never rent-a-ghosted without her jacket reappearing. Not only that, her tights were still ripped from where he had forced the material away. A panic, foreign and encompassing, welled up in her and she took a step back. Once free of Hal she rent-a-ghosted again in place. At the comforting weight and creak of her jacket she breathed a sigh of relief. Her tights were restored; her skin was once again unbroken, now hidden under her comforting leather armour.

Hal fastened his trousers as he stood shakily, with his shirt still untucked. He didn't say anything as he rigidly headed towards his sink. He turned on the faucet and immediately stuck his hand under the water, reaching for the soap. Furiously, he scrubbed away the miniscule amount of her non-existent blood, steam rising as the water heated. She stood still in the centre of the room and watched him purge the temptation from himself with an unnecessary excess. Water still running, he suddenly dropped his hands to grip the edge of the porcelain basin and leaned into it. A shot of pain pierced through her gut and Alex nearly doubled over as well. She was feeling his hunger, clearly, as if it were her own.

She backed away to drop into sitting at the foot of the bed as the feeling overwhelmed her. Eventually, Hal turned off the faucet with an unsteady hand. Their eyes met and he held her gaze, his breathing still rushed as he bore into her. Alex tried her damndest not to let on what she was feeling, and it was a relief when he looked away and dropped to the floor. He started counting crunches and all Alex could do was sit, balling the blanket under her fingers into her fists. The pain wracking through her came in waves and kept coming. She focused on his voice, counting and steady until eventually, well past a hundred, the sensation began to fade and recede, and finally she could let go. She smoothed the blankets just as he came to a stop, laying on the floor and quieting his breath. She took a deep breath herself, and he sat up, leaned against the sofa and stared at her.

"Hal, what happened today?" She asked him softly as they faced each other from across the room. Hal looked away, sullen, but she pressed, folding her hands into her lap. "Please - I need to understand."

"How did you know?" Hal answered her question with one of his own.

"I," Alex started, then looked at the floor. She didn't have to say it, because he concluded from the look on her face.

"Its growing stronger, isn't it?"

Alex bit her lip, then reluctantly nodded.

"Megan," Hal shook his head in disbelief, gaze dropping to the floor. "She thought... after my fight yesterday with Tom, she thought I was sweet on Allison. She offered an alternative."

Alex guffawed - anything to break the tension between them. "Bloody likely!" At Hal's evasive look she knew there had to be more to it. "Megan's annoying, but that is hardly reason for you to..."

"No. It was far more primitive than that," he answered with vehemence. "Simple proximity. Megan was menstruating." Hal let that lag. At first, Alex wanted to laugh. It was absurd. Then the gravity hit her. Hal recognized her dawn of understanding and his gaze bored into her again.

"If you hadn't... if we hadn't..." He shook his head, clearly hating to complete the thought. "Tell me you understand just how close..." he gestured with his hands, then let them fall open to his lap.

"You mean if I hadn't known, and we hadn't -"

"I would have killed everyone," he uttered, his gaze intense and with complete sincerity. "The staff, the conference - the entire hotel. One slip and it wouldn't have been just one dead girl. The risk is far too severe. I can't do this Alex. I shouldn't be allowed out. I should be thrown down a well."

The completeness of his self-hatred hit her square in the chest and she dropped off the bed and came to kneel next to him. She took his hands in hers firmly and he flinched. "Hey - hey," she soothed and he looked up at her. "But you didn't," she said. "I found you, and you didn't. You stopped it. You saved her."

"This isn't heroic Alex. Today, maybe, but what of tomorrow? What of the next day or the day beyond that? What if you're gone? I can't go back."

"But -"

"I must not." Hal's tone was final as he pulled his hands free from hers and abruptly stood. "I need tea," he said to her questioning look. "And… something to eat," he sighed.

Alex's painful memory of hunger was still close. "Will that… help?"

Hal's mouth hardened. "Not really," he admitted. "It's more of a distraction."

"Oh," she answered. He started to walk away and she stood. "Are you…" Alex started, then stopped, not quite knowing how to phrase it.

"Still a risk?" he filled in her question for her and she bit her lip then nodded. "Always," he concluded then stressed, " _Always._ "

Hal left her with that, hoping she understood - _needing_ her to understand. She remained standing in his room.

Downstairs, the phone rang and he answered it automatically. Perhaps he shouldn't have as he recognized the voice of his employer.

"Hal? This is Edwards. Did you forget that you are on shift today?"

"There was an emergency. At the house. I left not long ago. I apologize."

"Hal," his manager paused awkwardly. "You've been doing a smashing job, really you have. You keep on top of your reports and the scheduling flawlessly. But… This is twice now that you have left early without asking."

"I am aware."

"Well, I'm afraid if you keep this up I'll have no choice but to let you go."

"No," Hal answered, already knowing what he had to do.

"No?"

"No, because I will be terminating our employment agreement."

"You're quitting?" Edwards asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

"Yes, I'm quitting. Good day."

"But -" Edwards started and Hal hung up.

There. It was done.

Hal stared at the phone set for some time before he picked up the receiver and dialed.

"Hello," the voice was clipped and prim in the greeting.

"I'm in," was all Hal had to say.

"Debriefing at sixteen hundred," was all Dominic Rook said in reply.

"What did you just do?" she asked him, leaning in the doorway and arms folded.

"What I must."

She gave him an unreadable expression as their eyes locked, then she unfolded her arms and took a step towards him. Crossing the room, she caught him by the shoulders, still holding his gaze. He wanted nothing more than to retreat, to pull away from her - but she stood her ground, and so did he. Then she hugged him, pulling them together close and tight with caring. He couldn't believe she still wanted anything to do with him. He had _hurt_ her - actually hurt her, and they had - _oh God._ She had let him.

He wrapped his arms tenuously around the solidity of her, feeling her warmth and illusion of life through her ever-returning jacket. The shampoo-fresh scent of her hair mixed with that undeniable sharp and spirited _Alex_ smell pierced through his core. He returned her embrace and swallowed in a vain attempt to push down everything he felt for this woman.

"I don't deserve you," was all he could say. She gave an exasperated sigh into his shoulder, but held him tighter.


	21. Cultivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Apologies for the few extra weeks of waiting on this one. I moved all of my belongings from one place, to another. Reviews are love_
> 
> * * *

The drudging cadence of classical music greeted Tom as he approached the house. He paused at the door, duffle in hand. Hal only listened to that pingy kind of music when he was too aggravated for something else, and he was supposed to be at work today. _Now what?_ Tom inwardly groaned. It had happened enough at the cafe for Tom to recognize the signs: he could almost smell the hunger from his vampire friend when he entered the house.

"What happened then?" he said by way of greeting, setting his duffle down and removing his coat. Alex was sitting crossed-legged in the far corner of the sofa, pillow on her lap, idly reading a magazine. She looked up at as he hung his coat on the hook, then she glanced towards Hal who was sitting statue-like, eyes closed and focused on the music.

When it seemed neither one of them were going to speak Tom prodded, "Nobody died, did they?"

Hal huffed, but kept his eyes closed. Alex shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest with a pointed look at Hal before answering. "This one nearly vamped the hotel. Then, he quit. Which I guess means that I've gone and quit too since he was covering for me."

"You what?" Tom couldn't help his surprise. He hadn't really been worried about Hal for weeks now. Not since London, when he had consciously refused blood. Not since he and Alex had… _well_. Tom plopped onto the sofa and leaned against the armrest to stare at his friend.

Hal sighed deeply, then opened his eyes and used the remote to stop the music. "Must this be a house meeting?" he asked the general space overhead.

"You quit work?"

Hal turned towards Tom with a sarcastic tilt of his head, "I nearly killed someone. So yes Tom, I quit work."

"What happened? It was that Megan weren't it?" Tom asked. At Hal's quick disconcerted look Tom couldn't help but smile. "C'mon Hal! She's been sweet on you for weeks. And you can't tell me you didn't know. Dodgy as you are, don't change that the ladies like ya. Long as you don't chat 'em up."

Hal pinched the bridge of his nose and winced, "This isn't funny."

"I know it ain't. But… ah, what will you do now?" Hal glanced to his right and he and Alex exchanged a look that Tom caught. "I know, you don't have'ta work, but -"

"If this war happens the way everyone seems to think it will, then none of it will matter."

"You're going 'ta help," Tom stated, already seeing the answer with the resignation on Hal's face. Tom was glad, actually. The situation with the werewolves was going to be a bloodbath if they couldn't do something to stop it. "I tried to teach some of 'em today. They're good folk. Most have had a run-in with vampires. They're angry, but I don't want to see 'em killed. Most didn't even know 'bout using our blood as a weapon. Will Rook be able to stop all this from getting out?"

"That is the hope."

"What does he need you to do?" Tom asked, noticing that Alex had closed her magazine with a decisive finality. Whatever it was, she already knew. But judging by the seriousness in the way she waited for Hal's answer, Tom could tell it wasn't something pleasant.

"Rook believes that I could be able to stop the vampires from coming to Barry."

"Can ya?"

"It is doubtful. But try I must."

"Why? Why risk it if you think it ain't gonna work?"

Hal shifted in his seat, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Tom could tell there was something Hal didn't want to tell him. Hal confirmed it by answering his question with a vague, "Can we just say I owe a debt?"

Tom furrowed his brow, wanting to press Hal but already knowing he wasn't going to like the answer. Hal looked away, staring into their mantle. "A debt to who?" Tom couldn't help but ask.

"Werewolves," Hal answered, finally meeting his eyes. Tom held his gaze, trying to understand, then shook his head.

"All werewolves? That's crackers. None of us were even made yet," Tom reasoned what he thought was a sound argument.

"Tom is right. Whatever the hell happened last century is no reason to -" Alex started and Hal cut her off by wincing his eyes shut again, as if her words hurt him.

"I owe it to those involved _now_ to attempt to set this right."

"But why?" she pressed.

"Because… the Lobisomem. The nature of their very existence is because of me," Hal stated, then paused. "I was the one who convinced Snow to allow some of the werewolves to live, as long as they remained hidden. And Cutler was the one who unwittingly broke their agreement. Don't you see? _Everything_ I've done affects everything now."

Tom could only just stare at Hal, open mouthed. His off-the-blood vampire friend had lifetimes of secrets tucked under his belt like so many daggers, continually revealed. Tom shouldn't still be surprised really, but he was. No matter who Hal was now, he used to be someone else entirely, with a whole different set of problems. Tom supposed if you lived in the world long enough, it made a certain sense that prior actions could affect the present day. It still threw him for a loop though. Alex seemed stumped by Hal's statement as well as she didn't press him any further. Silence stretched around them until finally, Hal cleared his throat and stood.

He glanced at his watch and then to Alex. "I must be going," he declared.

"Now?" Tom sat a little straighter as Hal stepped away from the sofa. "You're going to help Rook _now_?"

"This is merely a meeting. I'll return this evening. Did you meet with Milo again?"

"No, he wasn't around today."

"If you can find out anything about his motives, it would be helpful. He worked for Snow, therefore he cannot be trusted."

"Couldn't you say the same about yourself?" Tom asked, understanding Hal's point but trying to understand more.

"Of course," Hal agreed readily, reaching for his jacket. "But I wasn't involved in trying to take over the world. Milo was. I'll see if my powers of persuasion still hold sway with the vampires. Maybe this crisis can be averted."

"I'm coming with you," Alex stood, leaving her magazine on sofa and giving Hal another pointed look. Their eyes met across the room as he shrugged into his jacket.

"As you wish," he nodded. Then added, "thank you."

"You'll tell Allison, yeah?" she said to Tom who was still sprawled into the corner of the sofa.

"Course."

* * *

The conference room Rook led them to was larger than their interrogation room from yesterday, complete with a long, executive-style table with seating for more than a dozen that faced a full wall whiteboard. A bank of lights, low-hung over the center of the table, did little to dispel the room's shadow-darkened corners. The flooring was the same industrial dark grey as the rest of the place, but in here it made the room seem further underground, giving it a cloistered feeling even with the door open. Given the military scale of the space, Alex wondered why the Archive always seemed quiet whenever they were around. They had only run into Mike Nave that one time, days ago. She actually wondered how he was getting on. It was her missing corpse that had gotten him pulled into this supernatural world after all.

Rook returned with an armful of files and cleared his throat, "Miss Millar is with us as well?"

"Yes," Hal answered, glancing at her quickly. This would be easier if Rook could see or hear her.

"Good. I did not wish to presume, since you drove here. Would you care for coffee? Tea?"

Hal felt a flash of annoyance at the offer then shook his head. "No."

Rook closed them into the room and set his files down on the table. Pleasantries aside and without further small talk, he got straight to business, placing a single file in front of Hal and taking a seat across the table. Inside the plain manila folder was a small statement of compensation, a simple non-disclosure agreement, and a liability waiver in the case of 'bodily harm, accidental staking and/or death, etc'. Hal returned his gaze to Rook. "You knew I would come."

"I hoped, and prepared accordingly."

"No, you knew."

"Based on the likely probabilities, given your known patterns of behavior… yes."

"This isn't necessary," Hal said as he closed the file.

"Merely our standard procedure," Rook answered somewhat formally and Hal tapped the fingers of his left hand lightly once over the manila surface. Rook's eyes were on Hal's fingers, then glanced back to his face. "Given your known patterns of behavior… there is always a risk something could go wrong, is there not?"

Alex shot a glance at Hal who still didn't respond. The parallel to his statement this afternoon gave her a slow chill, and she wondered if Rook could possibly know. Alex supposed that he was familiar enough with vampire behaviour to have genuinely inferred.

Rook used the pause to extract a single piece of paper from the stack in front of him, and handed it to Hal without a further glance. "We took the liberty to analyze who you might speak with. We have compiled some probabilities of connected individuals and their current locales, all of which we believe you have associated with at one point or another."

Hal's expression went from impassive to furrowed as he quickly scanned the sparsely typed sheet of names, locations and the stack of files. "How, exactly did you -"

"This is all part of our Archive. The organisation has been cross-referencing data for several centuries."

"Jesus this organization is a mind fuck," Alex muttered, leaning next to Hal to read the list. None of the names were familiar to her, but then again, until their trip to the Hebrides she only had met Richard Turner, who was locked-up, and Cutler, who was dead.

"We will need a list of where Miss Millar has been near these locations. Clandestine arrangements can be made for public buildings, with additional travel outsourced, if necessary."

"Well, that's easy," Alex retorted, glancing once more at the sheet. "London, with you. Rook doesn't know that we used your memory to -"

"We will get you the list," Hal answered Rook while simultaneously addressing her as well.

"The first place you must access is London. Specifically, the offices of Turner and Yorke."

"The office is under surveillance, is it not?"

"Yes, but Miss Millar can gain access swiftly and unseen."

"And you don't already work with a ghost who could run such errands?" Hal asked with annoyance.

"We do, and they have tried. However, Turner's office was left protected against most Type Ones. Miss Millar has gotten through the barrier in the past. Reason dictates that she can again."

Alex blanched, recalling the deadly car-wreck sensation her first attempt to teleport out of Turner's office had brought both of them. Before she could raise protest though, Hal placed his hand on her thigh under the table.

"What is it that you need retrieved?" he asked Rook.

"Turner's letterhead. Given our current position, stealing some will be far simpler than attempting to recreate your partner's flair for letterpress and obscure paper. This needs to be authentic."

"You need Richard to write a letter?" Hal scoffed.

"We need several letters to be interpreted as having come from Turner."

Hal glanced at Rook's list again, "So you want me to deliver letters? I'm not your bloody clerk."

"No, you're far more valuable than that. You, Hal Yorke, will act as an emissary."

"You do realise the Council would see me dead."

"Yes, but you have managed your way around such things before," Rook gave a little smile. "The individuals identified are believed to be sympathetic. They are each in direct benefit of the Old Ones' demise, therefore may hear you out."

"This list," Hal started, then exhaled slowly. "Have you any evidence that the vampires have been alerted to come to Barry at all?"

"Ah, yes," Rook said, as if he had forgotten. Alex had the sense he had been merely waiting for Hal to ask. He took something from his inside jacket pocket, tapped it on then slid it across the table to them. The screen of the thin, black phone illuminated to reveal what Alex recognized as a Twitter feed. "Well-placed words travel fast. Which is exactly what we must counteract. Our social media department is doing what they can, but we believe the old-fashioned approach would hold greater value for some of your constitutes."

She reached for the phone when Hal did not, quickly scanning down the feed of messages about a full moon fight in Barry and how "the dogs were going to get it." She rolled her eyes, but then came to realise how familiar the weight of the phone felt in her hand. The inner loose shake of the battery made her curious, and she turned the phone over. Sure enough, there was the same scratch along the backside. Her little brother had accidentally lost it under the fridge and they had to fish it out with a coat hook.

"This was mine," she declared as Rook watched the phone levitate and turn. Apparently, he didn't have to hear her to guess at her question.

"Waste not, want not."

"This was Alex's?" Hal asked, repeating her question. He motioned to her to let him take it and he held it delicately, like he wasn't quite sure where to touch it.

"We had it erased of course. It doesn't trace to her. But through it, we can track your progress."

"You can track us, you mean." Alex snorted, watching Hal examine her phone. He had let the screen go dark.

"Does it work as a telephone?" Hal asked, pinching it between two fingers like it was offensive.

"Yes. It is fully connected to the network and we have programmed the contacts you may need -" Rook began, but when the phone was snatched away from Hal, he paused.

"You're hopeless," Alex teased lightly but tried to unlock the screen. Her previous code failed however.

"Two five four two," Rook announced, watching the failed code attempt. She punched it in and the screen returned to light. She clicked through several things quickly.

"They really did. Everything's gone. Shite bastards," she cursed.

Alex sagged, and Hal took the device back from her. A gentle scent caught his attention. The phone still subtly smelled like her, even after all this time.

Rook straightened his already tidy stack of files then folded his hands over the top. "Take some time this evening. If you can provide us with that list, we can have an approach strategy planned as soon as tomorrow. The department can always send letters through traditional means if you change your mind. However, you know same as I that would be an exercise in futility. This needs weight behind it to be believed."

"And you would have me as your heavy."

"We would have your help in any way you wish to give it. This department has mitigated exposure without interference for centuries. I would prefer it remain that way, but needs must."

* * *

Nave, his hands full as was his usual these days, passed by Jonathan Castle in the corridor. His previous mentor looked haggard. His normally tidy grey suit was rumpled, the waistcoat undone. The young man had just come from the break room, a mug of coffee uncharacteristically in his hand. Castle had been deployed to assist their London team with the bombing, and had only just returned yesterday, with a drugged Richard Turner in tow.

"They're running you too much Castle," Nave commented in passing.

Castle shrugged, about to continue on his way when he stopped, and turned back towards Nave. "Say - what is going on in the war room?"

"You missed the excitement. Yorke & Millar agreed to help."

"The Old One, _really_?" Disbelief was inherent in Castle's tone.

"Yeah. They're strategising or whatever over the revolution attempt."

"The what?"

"Oh - er. You missed that too? Has no-one debriefed you lad?"

"Too busy I suppose. Why don't you fill me in?"

* * *

Alex had reset; her ghostly ability that always returned her to the state she'd been at the time of her death had healed her of his misdeeds. He had hurt her, but she wasn't hurt. In fact, as she joined him in bed she didn't even seem bothered by their actions in his office earlier.

Hal recognized it for what it was however.

He was slipping.

The more she had tried to help him today, the more he had _wanted_ to hurt her; to tear through her to get to everyone and anyone else. His bloodlust would win - eventually. Which was precisely why he knew he could not return to the hotel. Working with Rook may not be any wiser, but all this - the anger of the Lobisomem and the impending revolution and everything that conspired to set it off - it all was directly tied to choices he had made in the past. Hal knew he couldn't set it right. Nothing can change the past. But he could try to mitigate the future. He had to attempt to keep his mistakes from rippling out any further than they already had, and he had to do so soon. Before he slipped any further and had a change of heart.

He had written the requested list, including several possibilities within each city. Alex had photographed his handwritten notes with her phone, magically sending it off. He wasn't eager to speak with anyone on Rook's list, but maybe he wouldn't have to. Tomorrow, he would consult with Richard. His old partner may not have proven helpful to Rook, but he still owed allegiance to Hal. Given Richard's current quandary of confinement, Hal might be able to remind him of that allegiance. He would ask him which contact to pursue for the most direct dissemination.

"Will you sleep… you know, after everything?" she asked, nestled in close and fingers trailing his stomach.

He shrugged, and didn't answer her at first, allowing his mind to continue to drift. _If only_ was an indulgence he seldom allowed. But tonight he couldn't let it go; Cutler's ambition had set off this predicament of potential war they now found themselves in. He wrapped his arm over Alex's shoulder and drew her close, savouring the scent of her. "The choices I've made…" he mused, still not really answering her. "Some... I never would have fathomed the implications."

"D'you mean the Lobisomem, or Cutler?" She asked insightfully, resting her head on his shoulder.

Hal had meant both, really. But his thoughts kept returning to his abandoned recruit. "Ergh. Yes, Cutler."

"That whole crazy scheme of his wasn't your responsibility though. You had nothing to do -"

"Oh but I did. I cultivated Cutler. An heir isn't taken lightly among the Old Ones, but I was... bored. I wanted the challenge of him. He was so intrinsically _good_ , in the beginning."

"Oh," she said, at loss for words as her hand stopped trailing its patterns. Talk of Cutler did invariably stump her. He should stop.

"I apologise. I'm tired, forgive me," he murmured, stroking her arm and setting his chin in her hair.

She draped her arm over his waist to find his hand, then interlaced their fingers. She sighed but hugged herself close. "It's alright. Get some sleep."

The press of her against him was softly comforting, her warmth soothing. Hal closed his eyes and felt her relax against him. She trusted him. She trusted that his strength would continue to win. Hal knew he shouldn't allow her to. If he truly cared for her he should push her away. But he also knew, at heart, he was and _always_ would be a selfish bastard. He held her close and let her comforting warmth guide him into sleep.

* * *

_The dark paneling and heavy furniture served to accentuate that there were too many people in the interior space of the flat._

" _This is my home! You can't -" the voice broke off abruptly with a meaty smack. Hal stopped at the credenza, removed his hat and admired a heavy crystal carafe. He unplugged the stopper and sniffed while more muffled and scuffled sounds of an unfair fight were heard from the dining room beyond the foyer. He poured himself a drink and took a sip as he picked up the newspaper sitting next to the liquor._

" _They'll hear and - mmmph!"_

" _Acclaimed Author George Orwell Dies," Hal read aloud from the paper and scoffed. "Your news is three days old. You've been avoiding us."_

_The man Hal was addressing failed to answer as he was being gagged and lashed to his own polished dining table. "Robert, I would like you to meet Mr. Cutler. He's a bit new at this, so please, don't mind him."_

_Robert gave a muffled protest through his gag, fighting with futility against the tightening of his bonds. Nick Cutler, dressed in an oversized trench coat, hastily removed his hat when he saw that Hal had, and held it awkwardly in front of him, as if it could distance him from the scene he was witnessing._

" _What is that?" Hal cocked his head towards the dining room._

_Robert pleaded with his eyes and gave a plaintive "mmrph!"_

_Cutler looked seriously pale and positively sick. Dennis, smiling slyly under his beard, placed a firm hand on his shoulder as Louie finished securing the restraints and stepped back from the table._

" _Really Robert, you must speak up. I can't hear you," Hal set his tumbler down and sauntered slowly towards the scene in the dining room._

" _Mmm-mmph mm mmph!"_

" _Oh, I_ know," _Hal drawled in mock sympathy. "I know, and I know that_ you _know." He came to stand next to the table with a velvet smile and Robert's eyes finally widened in mortal fear. Leaning in close, Hal whispered in his ear, "You understand my position, of course."_

_Hal produced a perfectly weighted blade from the lining of his jacket and used it with a deftly darkening satisfaction. Flesh pierced so easily, despite Robert's tweed suit. Like parting open a parcel._

" _Mmmph!" The protest raised in pitch then cut off sharply. Hal freed the blade and surveyed the mess of the man on the table. The knife he was holding was slick with blood. He brought the blade to his face, then licked the side, vision brightening as the room flared into crisp detail._

" _Nice. The guilty always taste better. Cutler - taste your predecessor."_

_Cutler looked positively aghast but Dennis pushed him forward - hard. He stumbled into the table, catching himself on its edge, then yanked his hands back in disgust from the blood that was pooling and threatening to drip over the edge._

" _This - this-" he stuttered._

" _My mistake was in leaving him human, unlike you. Drink." Hal's command did not leave room for argument. Cutler was shaking his head, his gaze pleading with Hal nearly as much as Robert had. The knife sailed with a sick thwack into the man's throat, right past Cutler's arm._

" _Drink!"_

_For a small, pivotal moment Cutler remained frozen, and all eyes in the room were on him. He peeled his gaze away from Hal, startled, to the knife in the man's throat and the blood gurgling out. Cutler swallowed, looked back at Hal then back to the bloodied throat._

_Trembling and tentative, he stretched out his hand to grasp the hilt of the knife and pull it free. Immediately it clattered, hitting the edge of the table and crashing to the floor._

_Cutler's hesitation failed him. The minute the blade was free, the gaping wound pooling with blood, his eyes flickered black and then he swooped, dropping onto the man's throat with a desperate lapping._

_Hal gave a smug snort then turned away, wiping his hands on his kerchief while Cutler slurped. Idly strutting back to the credenza, he picked up his tumbler and continued with the paper._

_When Cutler finally came up for air, it was with his face covered in gore and fangs extended. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then licked his lips with a satisfied grin. Hal let the paper drop back to the credenza and raised his glass in mock toast to Cutler._

" _There. Better?"_

_Cutler grinned drunkenly._

_A sharp rapping_ knock knock! _at the door set everyone on alert, Cutler's grin turning guilty in an instant. Hal set down the glass and donned his hat. "Would you look at the time." He gave a nod to his crew and Louie pulled a flask out of his breast pocket._

" _Mr. Mercer? Deli delivery sir," came the voice from the other side of the door while Robert's body was doused with a spray of the propellent liquid in the flask. Hal struck a match, the firelight brightening the edge of shadow under his hat as he pulled the light through the tip of his cigarette. One long drag, then on the exhale he flicked the match onto Robert's gutted torso. The flame_ woomphed _and caught, quickly picking up speed and spreading across the table._

" _Supper is served gentlemen," Hal announced, the room dropping into crisp relief once more as he reached for the door._

* * *

When Alex jerked awake, dark visions imprinted behind her eyelids, it was with acceptance. She couldn't ignore the mass-murdering trail of Hal's past any longer. The dreams were either real, or they were the machinations of her subconscious as a way of coming to terms with it. She couldn't pretend this wasn't happening. She needed to know if _her_ dreams had any bearing in _his_ reality.

She just wished there was a way to know without asking him.

Beside her, Hal was still. The disturbingly still sleep of a vampire. Hardly a breath or movement to mark that he was alive, and not a corpse like the gutted and still form in her dream.

Almost as if her thoughts were pulling at him, Hal sighed in his sleep and turned fluidly into her. The back of his fingers came to rest curled into her chest and Alex didn't move. She didn't want to risk waking him. The creeping spread of an idea was taking hold. There potentially _was_ a way she could find out. All she had to do was confirm one of the dreams as being a memory. The kill she just witnessed had been interrupted, the body and flat burned. Which maybe, just _maybe,_ meant there was a record. And now, she had a date.

"Acclaimed Author George Orwell" the headline had read. She hadn't always paid the best attention in her courses, but vaguely remembered that he died in London, even though he had been living in Scotland before then. If this past dream had been connected to that event, then having a factual date would significantly narrow the timeframe of her search.

She rationalized that she could just search for the date and see if there was a record. It wouldn't take her that long. And then she would leave. She didn't need to look through the rest of his file, if she found it. It wouldn't do to add more fuel to the fire if this all was only her imagination, after all.

Yes, she would go, check for the date and then she'd be right back. She watched Hal's face in the half light as she pulled carefully away. It was the middle of the night. Hal's watch on the nightstand indicated that it was nearing two. _If ever there was a time for a ghost to pass undetected in the Archive_...


	22. Totter and Sway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Reviews are love._
> 
> * * *

Papers yellowed with age, journals and empty file boxes spread in a circle around her, stark against the dull laminate floor. She had first appeared in the archive room where they had met Arthur, and quickly come to realize the files weren't organised chronologically. They were grouped according to case number, and then by location. She scanned the whole room before she inferred that what she was looking for must be deeper in the Archive. She was going to pass through to the next room, when an aisle end label caught her eye; SY042. The label was fresh, as if it had recently been moved. And something about it struck her as familiar. The box nearest the end was titled "Crucifix Lane". The box after that was marked "Stokers". She lifted the lid and inside amongst various files were photos of the warehouse where Annie had blown up the Old Ones.

Alex walked to the end of the aisle. Other case numbers were referenced periodically, but every single box along the entire row was labeled SY042. _Could all this be Hal's?_ Alex opened the box nearest to her. In it was a leatherbound journal dated 1855. She swallowed and quickly closed the box, moving further up. This could take longer than she had thought.

Her quick-glance approach of searching up through time was all well and good until she reached the 1900s. Delicately scripted eyewitness accounts were rather institutional compared to early crime scene photography. Crime scenes marked in white numbers contrasted with stark blacks. A bloody wrist. A strapless gown marred by spatter. A lifeless lump, a neck without it's head; the row of files went on.

And then, there it was; what she had been looking for. The charred and decimated corpse found at the burned down flat of one Robert Mercer, solicitor, January 24th, 1950.

She barely had time to process her findings. _Footsteps_. In the dead of night, footsteps.

Alex frantically tried to scurry the papers back into order, ghosting them onto a shelf with barely a whisper when Rook stopped at the end of the aisle, his gaze searching over her head. She was seated on the floor, completely frozen even though she knew he couldn't see her. One long finger tapped the shelf as his cold blue eyes swept the scene. _Did this guy ever sleep?_

"Miss Millar. I presume," he spoke in her direction. Without a response or indication from her, he continued, as if he somehow knew she was right in front of him, beyond his sight. "I hazarded to surmise you would return..." He took a clipped step forward, fingering the files that began in the 17th century and branched onwards. "I _surmised_ that you do not truly know who your lover is, do you? It was only a matter of time..."

Alex stood and faced Rook. He couldn't hear her, but she wanted to shout to the lights that it didn't matter. That Hal had conquered the demons of his past. That he wasn't this monster from his files anymore. Except… she was silent. She wanted to know what Rook thought he could tell her. It sickened her, but she couldn't help it. She _needed_ to know.

"Henry Yorke. Category, Old One. Turned, 1514. Youthful in appearance, charming as they always are, but ruthless. Did you know that the title of "Old One" has naught to do with their age? But rather it is a nod of respect towards deeds done? A badge of damnable honor. Their leaders; the vampires' very own nightmare."

Rook stepped forward, tapped his finger against a particularly large file. "For instance take this village. It's what _he_ did." He flashed a wicked smile, showing a wisp of pleasure at revealing such a deed to his invisible companion. "We had to cover it up. Claim it was the plague. An orphanage. Children, and everyone else. Word was, Yorke was traveling alone then. He must have worked up an appetite."

Rook took another step forward and Alex stepped back. His fingers thoughtfully trailed the spine of another file. "Or perhaps more recent deeds will strike your fancy? 1944… and a certain financial backer? It took them years to uncover the relocated Nazis under Operation Odessa..."

The tinney fluorescent light overhead began to flicker, sputtering and cracking with it's increased oscillations.

"Is this bothering you Miss Millar?" Rook strode forward, almost to where Alex stood. She backed into the end of the shelf and felt a row of files topple behind her. Rook smiled, then reached out his hands, fingers extended, searching. Aghast, but unable to shake herself into movement, Alex watched his fingers brush the sleeve of her jacket. His smile broadened as he must have sensed her. Assured she was still there, still listening, he said "You see Miss Millar, I have to make certain that you know these things. So much depends on you; on your bond with him. If it were to break, I'd rather that was today. I'd rather know - wouldn't you?"

Alex shuddered and regained her senses. She _needed_ to get away from Rook's pushing presence and she needed to go _now_.

She landed in a heap in the soft dark of the living room - familiar, achingly domestic and such a relief after the glaring truths of the Archive. She stumbled and sank into the sofa. Curling up against the armrest, she hugged a pillow to her chest as visions of corpses pulsed behind her eyes. She let the tears wrack her body in great hewing, silent sobs. Row upon row of shelves… and the implication of so much more... Alex shuddered and shook and clung the pillow tighter, as if it could shield her from the anguish in her chest. Three, four hitches of heaving later and her breath caught. A gentle weight had sunk into the sofa silently next to her.

He did not speak or try to console her. She lifted her face to see Hal seated stiffly in the dark next to her. His posture was perfect with hands on his thighs and gaze staring ahead, into the mantle.

Her caught breath shot out in a stuttered exhale and she wiped her face. _Of course_. Her heart sank with the realisation. Hal could sense spikes in her emotions just as she could in his. _Damn it all to hell._

"Hal..." she braved, even though she hadn't a clue what she could possibly say. Fortunately, he cut right through to it without her having to say anything at all.

"You went to the Archive," he stated, his words even, but his body deathly still. "You know my darkest self and no longer think that you know me." His eyes flashed in the dim light, meeting hers across the length of the sofa. His tone was grim, final and deeply disappointed. "You could have asked me, Alex. I would have told you. Anything you wanted, _I would have told you_."

Alex sniffed, wiped her nose and felt the shift as he stood. His footsteps were soft against the worn carpeting as he walked behind her. He stood there for a breath, maybe two, giving her space to respond, but her voice died in her throat. The horror of a nightmare proven real was still all too close for words.

One finger gently stroked the fine hairs on the back of her neck, sending a familiar shiver of a response through her body. His touch trembled as he pulled away. She closed her eyes, anticipating his arm across her chest... his lips to brush her skin in understanding and an urging of her to speak. Instead there was the sound of his footsteps retreating. She whirled in her seat, "Hal!"

He paused, but did not turn. She gripped the back of the sofa as she struggled to even begin to explain, "I… needed to know… before I-"

"You need to stay away tonight." His whispered words held a heavy threat. Alex leapt off the sofa to stand, still clutching her pillow with one arm.

"No, dammit! Let me at least explain -"

"NO!" He shouted, harsh, and final, turning back to face her and force his gaze. Her protest died on her lips.

His eyes were full, cavernous black.

* * *

She could feel his presence, awake and brooding a floor below her. She wondered if he were steadying himself with dominos, or his regimen. She wondered if he were still furious. It had been an hour.

Alex had sat numbly on the sofa in the darkened living room for a time, but then craved her room. She didn't want to have to answer questions if Tom or Allison came downstairs.

In the attic, she paced. She had to tell him. She had to be patient, to let him cool down, but she _had_ to tell him. She replayed his tone of disappointment when he said _you could have asked me_. It cut through her. She was kicking herself. _So stupid_. Yeah, he'd get mad. So what. If she really cared for him, then she had to just tell him. Keeping the nightmares to herself was selfish. Stupid, and selfish. Part of her had _wanted_ to know. All the gruesome, carnal terribleness. She wanted to understand him.

He had told her to stay away, but he needed to know the truth. And he needed to know it now.

Alex was at his landing before she had really even thought it through. She paused, then boldly entered anyways.

Hal was at the sofa. A marching white spiral of ivory spun out on the small table in front of him. But he wasn't placing them, nor was he taking them down. He had reached the end and just… stopped. His gaze was intent on the last piece, hands resting on his thighs. He didn't look up or even glance away when she entered, but she supposed he didn't need to.

She stood there, awkwardly for a moment before forging ahead. "I'm sorry. I really am. I never meant… I mean..."

"The spiral moves in opposite directions from itself," Hal started, strangely conversational when she trailed off. "It is the ultimate expression of both the infinitely expanded, and the infinitely contracted. It is in constant approach of its own duality, existing without a center, yet always stretching towards the perfect singularity from which it arose." His eyes were still distant, looking into and through the last domino. "From small beginnings to the finitely expanded. Did you know that to remove the most recent compartment from a nautilus shell, is to actually move backwards in time?" Hal posed the question without expecting an answer as he reached forward to delicately caress his last domino. "Why did you go?"

Alex took a deep breath, watching the intensity of his eyes on that single piece of ivory. "I needed to check something before I talked to you about it. I had… I wanted to be certain."

"Certain about what?" His tone was detached and cold, and it frightened her in its starkness.

"I've been," she paused, uncertain if there was any other way to say it. "I've been having nightmares Hal."

At that, he did look up, sharp and piercing. She swallowed. _No stopping now._ "Tonight I had one with a date. It seemed like a good idea to check it."

"Why would you have to check a date at the Archive?" As he asked the question, she could see the answer already forming.

"Because it wasn't a nightmare. Turns out, it was a memory."

For half a second, he held her gaze. His lips parted and a small, anguished shudder escaped. "My memory. Oh _Jesus_." The curse was a long drawn whisper before he suddenly stood, jostling the table enough to make the ivories totter and sway. He stepped away, glancing at it only briefly before returning his eyes to her with a demanding, "How long?"

"Er, not long. Two, three days if you count tonight."

"And you didn't think to mention it? Until _now_?"

"The first one, I thought was a fluke. The second I tried to rationalize. I didn't know."

Anger rising, the brush of red on his cheeks flared. "Why didn't you _say_ ," he shouted.

"Cuz I knew you'd get like this!"

He was across the room in an instant. When his hands bit into her arms she had a taste of just how restrained he normally was with her. Even through her jacket, his grip hurt.

" _Like this_ is how I am. What the hell makes you think I'd be okay not knowing you could go walking through my head? "

His anger and charge unleashed the stubbornness in her. She spat his anger right back, shoving him away with supernatural force. "What's so terrible that you don't want me to know? What is _so_ horrendous that you think I need protecting from? I know who you _were_ Hal! What does it matter what I see?"

"Knowing and seeing are two separate things! It's ALL of it. I wouldn't wish my memories on anyone, much less someone I love."

Alex choked on her anger, stalled and stopped. Faintly, disbelieving, she couldn't help but ask, "You - you what?" He loved her, and she couldn't even repeat it. She hadn't thought that he really could. And she never fathomed that he would ever say it. She had felt his care, his trust… but...

Something in his face crumpled as she stood there, dumbfounded and he shook his head. "Just… go. Please," he pleaded.

Sharp welling of tears pinched her throat at the hurt and confusion of it all. That he still wanted her to go. She bit her lip to try and hold it back, but it was no use. She disappeared.

* * *

It was the grey hour of morning, and Alex had spent the night how she used to: alone and left to her own devices. She didn't read. She couldn't bring herself to watch the tele. She spent it back in the attic, lost in thought after she had disappeared. Eventually, she kicked off her boots so her steps wouldn't wake him. If he had managed to sleep that is.

_Much less someone I love._

He loved her, he had actually said it. _In anger._ This whole time, he had never actually said. He had deliriously spouted poetry to her, after London. In the weeks since, she had certainly felt his care for her. He attended her service on Saturday even though it caused him great difficulty. They way he had been with her the night they spent on Grimsay…

She was so confused. Now, knowing all that she did - _she_ couldn't still feel the same, could she?

Alex was surprised to hear a knock on the attic door. She had been so lost in thought, she hadn't sensed his approach. She opened the door to Hal holding two steaming mugs of tea.

"May I?" he asked her formally and Alex just stood there. She almost wanted to tell him to leave her be. That _he_ needed to stay away tonight. Part of her was still angry. But instead, she shrugged, then took one of the mugs from him and retreated to the sofa.

He followed her, closing the door quietly behind him, then came to sit opposite her. With controlled casualness, he sipped his tea before speaking, gathering himself as he examined her. Alex was caught silent, not knowing what to say, not knowing where to start. And he just kept staring at her, looking her directly in the eyes. Contemplating her.

Just when she couldn't bear it anymore - she was going to blurt out something, anything to break this, his eyes dropped. Then he apologised to _her_.

"I'm sorry, Alex," his eyes closed. This was hard for him. "I do not have the right to be angry for something you cannot control." He glanced at her and she just held her tea, embracing the warmth. "I'm so sorry you have had to see that part of me."

He was so earnest, so true in his apology that her anger broke. She set her mug to the side and started hesitantly, tugging at the hem of her dress. "I should'nae have kept it from you. At first, I didn't believe it. I tried to rationalize that it could have come from my death, from _all_ this. I thought that maybe, it was my subconscious way of dealing with it all. I've had days to mull this over. You had to deal with it all at once. _I'm_ sorry."

Hal held her gaze, seeking the truth in her eyes, then set his mug down as well. A look of pain mixed with resignation crossed his features when he met her eyes again. Open handed, he beckoned her to him. Alex hesitated briefly, but then she edged across the sofa and Hal wrapped his arm around her shoulders to hug her to his chest. He buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath.

"I'm _so_ sorry you had to see it," he repeated. She didn't say anything. There was no denying the dreams were terrible. She moved her arm to return his embrace and hugged him closer, feeling the subtle way he trembled deep through his core. They held each other, each consoling the other, until he softly asked, "Can you tell me?"

With her head resting on his chest and his arms around her, she recounted the dreams. She kept them in order and didn't go into much detail, expecting that he would know. And he did.

For the first time since she died, Alex felt wetness in her hair. Hal was crying. Without sound and with small, shuddering shakes. She didn't say anything further, just held him close while keeping her face pressed to his chest.

Eventually, he swallowed, his breath controlled and even as he rested his chin atop her head. With a composed voice, he softly declared, "We will ask if the Department employs a Medium. Maybe they can help."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*From Wikipedia: " **ODESSA** is believed to have been an international Nazi network set up towards the end of World War II. The purpose of the ODESSA was to establish and facilitate secret escape routes, later known as ratlines, to allow SS members to avoid their capture and prosecution for war crimes. Most of those fleeing Germany and Austria were helped to South America and the Middle East."_
> 
> _(I have a whole theory / short story brewing about the events that led Hal to be fed up with his darker self, and vampire involvement in WWII is part of that.)_
> 
> _** I refreshed my memory on Spiral Theory from Sacred Geometry, by Robert Lawlor._


	23. Distressed Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> * * *

"Mr. Yorke, I do hope calls this early will not be standard measure. Is there a problem?" Rook answered, overly bright for someone seemingly disturbed with the hour.

"Good morning. I apologise if I have woken you," Hal replied courteously.

"Of course not. But I imagine that Miss Millar informed you I already had an early start today."

Hal gave Alex a questioning look which she responded to with a sheepish expression. "Erm, yeah. Forgot to mention that bit. Rook caught me last night."

"Mr. Yorke?" Rook filled in the pause.

"You saw Alex at the Archive?" Hal asked.

"Well, I didn't _see_ her per-se, but yes. I was alerted by the mobile residing in her pocket. Why do you ask? Has she gone missing?"

Hal felt immediate aggravation by Rook's tone, which spoke of his belief that she had done just that.

"I knew it. He acted like he expected me," Alex shook her head. "He knows all about you Hal. It's creepy."

He restrained his irritation and responded calmly, "Alex is right here." He could imagine the smile dropping from Rook's face. At the silence from the other end of the line, Hal continued, changing the topic to the reason for his call, "We were wondering if you happen to employ a medium?"

"May I ask what this is about?" Rook's tone had returned to its usual clipped consonants.

"I would prefer to discuss that with your contact directly, if I may."

"Does this concern your mission?"

"It does if you want our continued involvement," Hal answered flatly.

Rook made a disconcerted noise on the other end of the line before replying. "We employ several individuals with heightened awareness of the supernatural world. In order to direct you to the most appropriate one, I will need to know what this is about."

Hal clenched his jaw. "Fine," he conceded. "Alex has been," Hal paused, searching for a neutral word to describe her nightmares. He resumed with, "experiencing some of my memories. I'm looking for someone who can place a shield."

"Ah. I see how that could be… problematic," Rook disparaged.

"Do you have someone or not?"

"How soon can you be here?"

"Now? We're going now?" Alex asked, her reluctance evident. Hal wondered just what exactly Rook had told her. _As if the dreams weren't bad enough_. But she was still here... He met her eyes when he answered Rook.

"We can be there in fifteen minutes."

* * *

They were walking towards the conference room in the Archive, but Alex stopped when she saw the grey-haired, and stocky figure waiting for them. The ghost saw her hesitation in approaching, and she beckoned with a grandmotherly smile, "Come along dear. I won't bite. Unlike your beau there. Do tell Dominic I'm here, would you?"

Alex was shocked. What was the oddly threatening ghost from the hospital doing here?

As Alex hadn't responded, Hal intervened, "Excuse me, but who are you?"

The ghost stepped around Rook while he opened the door and introduced herself. "Maggie Dan. And you're Hal Yorke. Just as easy on these old eyes as I'd hoped," she winked. With Hal momentarily stalled, she turned to address Alex. "I'm sorry to have given you a fright dear. When I filed my report, Nave caught that I might have seen you and not some snatcher. He sent me your file."

"She has arrived then?" Rook asked, his blue eyes darting around the corridor as if he expected to see some trace of his ghostly employee.

"Yes, it appears so," Hal answered. Caught off-guard that Alex already knew their Medium, he played it off with politeness. "Thank you."

"There is a call button on the table. Do let us know if you require anything else. I will see you after, if you don't mind." Rook was overly formal and courteous. He gave Hal a small nod, then brusquely departed.

"Let me get a good look at you," Maggie pushed the sleeves of her grey cardigan up and opened her arms to clap Alex on the shoulders.

"What is a snatcher?" Alex asked, ill-at-ease with the old ghost's examination.

"Ah - nasty spirits who think it's okay to go walking in someone else's shoes. It gets them in the end. Don't you worry."

"Walking?"

"Body snatchers, love. Awful business."

"Oh," Alex answered awkwardly while Maggie stared into her eyes with a clinical focus, then cupped her face with cold hands.

"Is that your manner of employment here? To police ghosts?" Hal asked curiously. He was standing apart from them, watching as Maggie turned Alex's head from side to side, then lifted her chin.

"Naw. I'm a Jill of all trades. I worked for the department back in '72, till I died. Didn't stop me none. Rook senior was a real piece of work, but I like Dominic. Can you levitate objects?" she asked Alex, switching back to the examination at hand. Alex nodded in response. Then Maggie raised an eyebrow, turning to peer at Hal. "And you?"

"Levitate? Er, no," Hal answered with a half smile at the absurd question. Maggie shrugged then glanced back to Alex.

"And how about teleporting. Are you up to more than your remembered weight?"

"Does Hal count?"

Maggie turned again to eye him assessingly up and down. "I'd say so. Though, that was a separate question. You haven't tried that with any others of his kind, have you?"

"No... why?"

"Me neither. We didn't have any research that it was possible."

Hal raised an eyebrow. "It is the bond, isn't it?"

"Well, I'd say it's a grey area. A living thing certainly wouldn't stay that way. But vampires aren't all the way living. Nor be ye quite dead. We just need more time to research it. So far, none of our operatives wish to experiment. If the opportunity arises, however..." Maggie chuckled, then placed her hands on Alex's temples. Alex looked over Maggie's shoulder at Hal, absolutely befuddled with this examination. _Was this how she was supposed to place a shield?_ She wondered and Hal shrugged, vaguely guessing at her question.

"I saw that," Maggie retorted with smile, even though Hal was standing behind her. "Now dear, tell me when this started."

"The connection? Or the nightmares?"

"Nightmares dear. That be why we're here."

"Only a few days ago. It was right after we used one of Hal's memories to teleport."

"I'd say that be the cause then, wouldn't you?"

"Aye, yeah."

"I knew it was a terrible idea," Hal deadpanned, but he met Alex's eyes with gentleness.

"So you opened something and you want to know how to close it."

"Can it be done?" Hal asked.

Maggie turned to look at him fully, raising an eyebrow. "Anything can be done handsome. If you have the means." She released Alex and brushed her hands. "Now you," Maggie motioned to Hal. He merely cocked his head at her and she tutted, "Yes, you're a part of this too. Chop chop."

Reluctantly, Hal took a step towards Maggie. She began the same examination she had with Alex. Hal patiently put up with the old ghost's touch. When she reached for his temples, tilting his head down to look into his eyes, she muttered, "There. That's it. Curious."

"What?" Hal asked when she released him.

Maggie stepped back to face them both. "Let's take a seat, shall we?"

Once they were settled across the table from Maggie, she folded her hands in front of her and looked pointedly at Hal. "She's lodged a bit of soul in you."

"I did _what_?!" Alex shouted, sitting up straight.

"It explains you two. Dominic wanted me to find out, if I could. We probably would have had this meeting eventually, regardless."

"But how could it happen? Hal was nowhere near me when I died."

"That, I can't tell. Couldn't even tell you if that's _when_ it happened. It's something between you two. Maybe the manner of your death? Maybe finding out his involvement? Or maybe it... I don't know. A distressed soul knows no bounds. "

In contrast to Alex's shock, Hal had gone very quiet and still. "So, you're saying I'm carrying a part of Alex."

"Yes. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Hal swallowed and didn't answer. Alex just stared openly at him until Maggie continued. "The dreaming is up to you. Both of you. It can be blocked, but it will take intention." Maggie paused, then looked to Alex. "You have to stop wanting to know."

"But I didn't -"

"Really? Did you now?" The elder ghost pressed and Alex was silent. She dropped her eyes down to the table, unable to look at Maggie or Hal. She knew the accusation was true.

"I can place a temporary block, but that would be all. You two are joined. I'd hate to inadvertently block something else and cause anyone serious harm."

"It will keep happening then," Hal stated sullenly and Alex glanced up.

"I didn't say that. You've got to want to control it. She's got to stop it. Next time it happens, try to redirect it or wake yourself up."

"I can do that?" Alex asked, a little cautiously.

"It takes some practise, but sure. And, I've an inkling you've already done so. They may be his memories, but they're your dreams love. You've woken yourself up each time?" Maggie asked. Alex bit her lip, then nodded.

"See? You have already started. But give me your hands. I'll see what I can do," she said as she extended hers, palm up across the table. Alex placed her hand in Maggie's immediately, and after a brief hesitation, so did Hal. The ghost's touch seemed even colder than before. An iciness seeped up Alex's wrist and turned into a brief tingling sensation. After a moment, Maggie released them.

"That's it?" Hal asked.

"That's it."

He stretched his hand, quickly tapping each finger to his thumb in succession. "Thank you."

"No guarantees, but you're welcome. Now go take care of the other thing that's eating at you." Hal shot Maggie a startled look but she just smiled. "Dominic's busy in his office and most of the other's aren't in yet. Go talk with him. I'll chat ghost business with your gal here."

"How did you know?" Hal cocked his head at her with eyes narrowing.

"I was just in your head dear. I wouldn't worry yourself about it."

Hal stood quickly, as if he wanted to retreat but then shook his head. He pushed his chair in, then looked to Alex. She raised an eyebrow, not quite sure what it was that Maggie knew he needed to do.

"I won't be long. It is likely best you weren't with me anyways," he said, which only added to her confusion. He gave a small nod to Maggie who remained seated across the table from Alex, then made for the door. When he shut it softly behind him, leaving them alone, the old ghost leaned in.

"Richard Turner dear. Things are complicated between them right now."

"Oh," Alex said, suddenly understanding why Hal didn't want her to come. He undoubtedly had noticed Richard's interest in her.

"I'd give my eyeteeth to have what you do girl," Maggie started, changing the topic. Apparently she didn't merely want to "chat" with her. Before Alex could ask what exactly the ghost meant, she added, "Oh yes, I was in your head too. To feel what you feel? Hot _damn_. "

"I don't understand," Alex shook her head. This was all too much. She was still reeling from the fact that Hal seemed to _know_ he was carrying a part of her; that it wasn't just her blood. It explained so much, yet just as many questions followed. How could this even have happened?

"You're living through him, you know," Maggie answered. "And he's letting you. He let you in and has allowed you to stay there."

* * *

Richard Turner was seated, head leaned back against the concrete wall and throat exposed. Next to him was an open metal flask. Hal noted they had given him a change of clothes.

"What do you want Henry?" Richard grumbled without looking at him.

"They're treating you decently I see," Hal said, ignoring Richard's question.

"No thanks to you."

"I'm not the reason you're here."

"You've said that before. Why _are_ you here? I've gathered enough about this place to know why _I'm_ here. I'm a liability. Fine. But why you? What have they got on you?"

"It's not the Department. It's the situation."

Richard dropped his head to level Hal with a straight look. He took a blatant and hearty draught from his flask, then raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"This involves the Lobisomem."

Richard's face widened into an "Ah," then he took another drink, draining it. "They're the ones blowing shit up? Wonderful. So you're trying to clear your conscience. Good fucking luck with that."

"I'm trying to stop this from getting any worse. Vampires in Barry are exactly what the wolves want. A massacre. And public."

"And there goes your little stint of domestic bliss," Richard derided with a smile.

"I'm serious Richard."

Richard stood abruptly and grasped the bars opposite of Hal. " You know what I want? I want out of here. _And_ I want your little ghost. But that's not going to happen, is it."

"I don't owe you anything. Not after what you did."

"Yes, it is I that owes _you_ ," Richard admitted bitterly through gritted teeth. "Are we finished yet?"

"No, I would ask your help." Hal paused and Richard gave a disgruntled sigh, but remained leaning against the bars. "Vampires must be warned to avoid Barry. Who will they believe, Richard? Who is best to pass along such a message?"

"Oh that's easy. But you're not going to like it," Richard taunted.

"Who." Hal repeated.

"Aside from yours truly?" Richard shrugged and then smiled. "Rosanna Bellante. Good luck with _that,_ " he turned away. Hal had expected as much from what little he had gathered, but it was good to have Richard confirm his suspicions.

"You mentioned that her recruit works for you now. How do I reach him?"

"Spike?" Richard turned back and wrapped his hand around one of the bars. "Simple. Call him. His number's on my mobile - which your blonde buddy has." Hal nodded, and began to turn away when Richard spoke up again. "Do me a favour, would you? The boy saw me get nabbed. Let him know…" Richard stalled then shrugged. "Let him know I'm not dead, alright?"

"That much I can do," Hal acquiesced. "Richard," Hal said with a small hesitation and Richard met his eyes. "This will all blow over in a few days. You'll be free to go, and we can talk then. I'm willing to renegotiate our business with each other."

"You said you wanted out. That I should start treating you like a client."

"That is correct."

"And our other agreement? What about the ghost?"

"No. Absolutely not," Hal rebutted and Richard's dark eyes narrowed. Hal was vehement but Richard's demeanour was shifting quickly into a barely repressed anger. "She is bonded to me. It likely wouldn't work," he added in an attempt to reason.

"I'm perfectly fine with finding out," Richard growled his retort, leaning forward.

"And I'm fine with you staying in here indefinitely." Hal answered calmly. "Did you gather that this Department has been around since your flirtation with Parliament? Arrangements could be made for a more _permanent_ detainment." At the threat Richard blanched and Hal smiled, "That's what I thought."

Richard shook his head, balling one hand into a fist at his side. "I have all of London at my disposal. Not to mention the business. Look at you - you're tame! Domesticated! What have you got? Admit it! Why won't you just -" Richard huffed, then leaned into his grip on the bar, levelling Hal with an assured gaze. "One of these days you'll grow weary of playing house and there we'll be."

Hal's attack was swift. Reaching through the bars to grip Richard's exposed wrist, he yanked forward just enough to capture his throat, slamming his partner's head into the metal. Richard struggled against him, one hand clawing futilely at his arm.

"Or, I could end you right now. Find someone else to run the business," Hal whispered into Richard's ear and twisted tighter, readying to snap his neck. Richard gurgled, leg thrashing for a better purchase against the unexpected attack. "What's that?" Hal asked calmly. "You protest?"

Richard couldn't get a word out, writhing with fingernails tearing at the leather sleeve of Hal's jacket. "You know damn well what I have and what I'm capable of. No invitation. No restraint. No warning. The rules between us have changed, my friend ."

Just as suddenly, Hal released Richard, who staggered into the bars. He choked and sputtered, rubbing his throat as as Hal stepped back. Hal waited patiently while his partner regained his composure. Richard stood slowly, straightening his collar with a nervous swallow. Both men regarded each other with a neutral stare.

"You thought you had me checked," Richard tilted his head, testing his neck with a sly smile. "You're no longer the only one willing to tell the secret, _mate._ "

Hal held Richard's gaze just long enough to not let his reaction show. "And how is Hetty?" he asked sarcastically.

Richard smiled, "She's right as rain. I'd watch myself, if I were you. She wrote you off, but there's no telling what she'll do if you come calling in her new town."

"Surely she doesn't think she can run London?"

"Oh, I don't know Henry. She's the only Old One we have left, and she's got the Council wrapped round her twee little finger. She's making promises."

"Her promises are hollow, you know that. She wouldn't be able to do it."

Richard shrugged, "Sure, I know. But the rest of them do not. Who would I be to dash such hopes?"

* * *

Alex cleared her throat, realising she had sat silent, lost in thought for more than a moment. "How did you die?" she asked Maggie in an attempt to shift their conversation.

"Does it matter? Or are you just curious."

"Curious, I guess. Sorry."

"Good. Curious is good. It'll keep you from from fading. You lived fully in your body before too I reckon?"

"Lived fully?"

"Intellectuals have a harder time of it. All that book learning, they forget what it's like in their own skin. You were athletic, indulged in your appetites."

"Erm…" Alex shifted in her seat. Talking with this matronly old ghost about her "appetites" was definitely not comfortable. Especially after learning she had been in both her and Hal's head.

"No mind," Maggie smiled warmly. "Not likely you'll have much to worry for fading anyhow. You've got yourself the strongest anchor I've ever laid eyes on. Lucky girl."

"Lucky? I'm not so sure about that," Alex shook her head. She was only half listening, her thoughts still circling through what Maggie had told them, but in context with everything from last night she was downright reeling. Some of the awful things about Hal she had known from the very beginning. Cutler had told her directly that her date was the most skilful murderer he had ever met. But that was right before Cutler murdered _her_ in a sick tribute, so it hadn't really quite registered. _How could she have lost a piece of her soul and not known?_ Was it when she saved Hal in London? Ever since then, their bond had grown, strengthened and spread. All long before the nightmares had started. But also, Alex remembered the first time she had sank into sleep with him. It had felt so _right_ , so... complete.

"What do you mean?" Maggie queried, pulling Alex's attention back into the room.

"Hal…" she started, then shook her head, not quite sure where to begin. "He's had such a terrible past. I've felt bloody barmy for even thinking I could love someone like that. But maybe it's not me at all," Alex paused, realising as she said it what the crux of her anguish was. _Maybe, she didn't really love him_. "Maybe its just this supernatural bond shite."

"Are you crazy for caring for someone who cares for you?" Maggie asked.

"He's killed so many people!" Alex shook, then took a deep breath.

Maggie regarded her, then gave a forbearing sigh. "I hate to disenchant you dear, but what you're feeling isn't from the bond. It doesn't rule your emotions. For either of you. If you love him, then there's only yourself to look to."

Alex furrowed her brow, not sure she could even begin to hear what Maggie was telling her. The ghost sighed, noticing her turmoil. "We've all got our demons dear. Yours just happens to dwell within someone your soul finds compatible. And that is a mystery quite beyond the experience of this Department," she stated with a shrug, then placed her chin in hand. "Now, what I'm curious about is how this link even happened. Was there a moment when you knew?"

"Knew what? That I was tethered to a cocking vampire?" Alex huffed uncomfortably.

"Knew when it was him," Maggie answered.

"I, uh… don't exactly," she stalled. Alex remembered when Hal had shown her, placing his thumb to her palm and making their connection undeniably obvious. But she had felt irrationally drawn to him even before then. Hal told her that _he_ had known from the moment they first touched after her death.

"Oh but I think you do. I think you know exactly." Maggie pressed, leaning her elbow on the table casually despite the weight of her words.

"I had… given in to despair," Alex started, hesitantly. She didn't care to recall those loathsome hours she had spent alone in the basement. "I was back from the other side, but trapped with my body - trapped in this terrible nightmare I couldn't wake up from. I kept trying to avoid it. To not see it. But there it was, and I couldn't seem to get away. I thought I'd be somehow locked down there forever. Destined to haunt this stupid basement where I'd been murdered," she gave a little laugh. It seemed absurd now, but her terror at being trapped had been very real. "When Cutler came back and opened the door and there was Hal... I knew then that I wasn't stuck. I knew then that I could leave. If he could leave, then so could I. Somehow, I knew that he was the way out."

"You felt him, then?"

"No, I wanted to kick the living shite out of him honestly," she laughed. "I hid. I didn't want them to see that I was still there. But then… watching his face when he saw my body? The sheer depth of his despair, it wracked through me. I couldn't look away. It was like… being stuck next to a car wreck."

Alex took a deep breath, shuddering past the memory, and Maggie let her be. She sat silent, waiting for Alex to feel ready to continue, but there wasn't anything else. That was it. If that was the moment a part of Alex's soul had gone out to Hal, then it seemed like such a small, sad and inconsequential thing. She almost couldn't believe it.

 _A distressed soul knows no bounds_. Maybe this really was her fault. Certainly not on purpose, but her own nonetheless. She had wanted Hal. _And she still did_.

And knowing that frightened her more than anything.


	24. Emissary Measures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._
> 
> _Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _It's my birthday this week and ALL I want is a comment from YOU. Good, bad, ugly, short or sweet - Bring 'em on!_
> 
> * * *

The old stairs barely creaked as Allison ascended towards her room. She wanted to check her email while Tom was in the shower, which meant retrieving her laptop from upstairs. She had learned which steps to avoid on her way past Hal's landing, but light spilling out from his door gave her pause. As she passed, she glanced at the neatly-made bed and empty space with neither vampire nor ghost within. Idly, she wondered where they could have gone off to at this hour. She doubted that any vampires Hal needed to speak to were amiable this early, but he would know, she supposed. Maybe there was some key individual that was better approached before breakfast.

Reaching her room, she set her tea down on the desk and flipped open her laptop. There was a message from a classmate about their recent study assignment, one from her mother about their autumn holiday, but nothing else.

Yet again Allison was disappointed. There wasn't a single line of refusal, rebuttal, argument or advice. Vinicius still hadn't returned her email.

* * *

"We have prepared an identity and a charge account for expenses," Rook said by way of greeting when Hal knocked and entered his office. The plastic cards sat neatly at the edge of the desk in a line of token peace offerings. "Should you run into any mishap -"

"How did you do this?" Hal implored, interrupting Rook and staring openly at the identification card emblazoned with his full name. What was remarkable however was the photograph of a youthful man bearing a striking resemblance to a portrait he had commissioned in the distant past.

"Modern facial recognition software. Quite simple, really. Now -"

"But who is this?"

"An Irishman studying abroad. It won't be traced. Who will you be speaking with first?" Rook returned the conversation to the matter at hand, seemingly eager to return to his work.

Hal glanced up from the casual gift that was nothing but casual as he took the seat across from Rook. "I require you to track a number from Richard's mobile."

Rook raised one eyebrow. "Oh? Who?"

"Steven Pyke."

Rook's eyebrow remained raised and his lips pursed as if he couldn't quite wrap his mouth around what he wanted to say. "Spike."

"Yes. I believe we can use him to approach Rosanna Bellante."

"I am most certain you can," Rook agreed, turning away and clicking through something on his screen. "Why Miss Bellante?"

"She is rising in power at the moment. She was… in favour with the Old Ones, therefore her word has the highest likelihood of being believed."

"Interesting," Rook answered, staring at the computer monitor.

"Well?" Hal needled, impatiently.

"It is unnecessary to track Mr. Pyke. We already know exactly where he his." Rook turned his monitor towards Hal. The screen read "Confidential Personnel" and underneath was a black and white image of a young, dark-haired man with handsome features. He was wearing an oxford shirt with a thin pencil tie. Hal scanned the screen quickly, realising the photo, unlike his, must be from pre-recruitment.

"He's working for you. He's working for Richard and he's working for you. Of course," Hal shook his head and huffed an incredulous little laugh. "Where can I find him?"

* * *

Training wasn't going well. Tom mulled it over as he worked alone in the hotel kitchen. He wouldn't have the werewolves ready to fight in time at the rate things were going.

It took time, practise and dedication to fight the way McNair had taught him. Allison was pretty good with a stake now, but Tom had weeks to teach her. Not just a handful of days.

A werewolf's strength and aim was naturally superior to that of a human, but Tom still wished he had more time. Or a few more of himself to go around...

When he had helped Allison, they had worked together exclusively. WIth this group, he only had a small amount of time with each person. And worse yet, another few had trickled in and he had to start with them all over! The Gwedores were a good help though, especially Conal. He'd had a few run-ins with vampires in his past, as had Irving. They were nowhere near the level of a dedication to the hunt as Tom and McNair had been, but enough that they were comfortable in helping the others train for a fight.

"You really must enjoy slicing those apples," a familiar voice drawled from the side and Tom looked up. Milo was leaning against the wall just outside of the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I like em well enough," Tom shrugged, keeping his focus on the task at hand and trying to remain casual. He had wondered when Milo would turn up, but was still surprised he had chosen Tom's place of work as neutral territory for a second time. They were short-staffed today what with Hal gone, and Megan had called in sick so Sophie was upstairs covering for her. Tom and Milo were alone.

"You're doing a nice job with our friends. I've come to thank you."

"You have?" Tom stopped his food prep and looked up.

"You're good. I'll hand you that much." Milo paused, his dark eyes glancing over Tom with a considering expression.

"But?"

"You're too clinical. Do you even kill vampires anymore?"

"Some. I've staked some."

"Is he really worth _that_ much to you that you've changed your ideals McNair?"

"Hal?" Tom asked, as if he didn't already know who Milo was referring to. "There's more to it than that, mate."

Milo shrugged. "There always is. Can you trust him?"

"Cor' I can. I'd trust him with my life."

"Yours, sure. But what about _theirs_?" Milo asked. "After all this time, you don't think he'd side with his own kind when it all comes down?"

"No! Hal's not like that. He's been helping even."

"Oh has he now? And how is that?"

Tom realised too late he couldn't tell Milo that Hal was off trying to convince the vampires to stay out of it. The fight seemed to be exactly what Milo wanted. Quickly, Tom covered. "He's gonna help me to train. Tomorrow."

Milo's eyes widened and he held Tom's gaze for a moment in disbelief. Then he barked a laugh that spread into a grin. "Now _that_ I'd pay money to see. Once an Old One," Milo laughed then shook his head. "War-mongering fucks. What time? I'll be there."

Tom swallowed and inwardly winced. "Oh," Tom stalled while he thought through timing. Hal was gonna _kill_ him. "Half eight."

* * *

The doors of St. Joseph's church opened into the grey drizzle and soggy bustle of a London street. Hal straightened his already impeccable clothing and glanced around, shaking his head.

"I doubt I will ever recover from the oddity of that," he murmured as he snapped open the umbrella he had brought with them, then struck out walking without waiting for her reply. "This way."

They had teleported the natural way; Alex had used her recollection of that disastrous afternoon Hal had confronted Hetty to bring them back to the very spot. They had waited until well after Mass, and with one phone call Rook had even ensured the cathedral was empty before giving them the all clear. Hal didn't wish to re-open the block that Maggie had placed unless they had to. Fortunately, the vampire they were seeking was reportedly nearby.

Hal had remained withdrawn after they left the Archive. She was being just as silent, so she supposed she didn't blame him. With so much to say, how did one even start? He had thrown himself into his routine that morning with a focus akin to when he was newly freed. His cycle of press ups, sit-ups and spirals of dominos was deliberate, flawless and relentless. Alex couldn't take it, so had left the room.

She wanted to ask him about their situation, and what he knew, but also didn't yet trust herself to say something she wasn't entirely sure if she meant. He had watched her leave, their eyes locking at the apex of his perfectly formed sit-up, but he didn't even pause. She'd closed the door and had gone out for a walk. Tom was at work, Allison was at school and the house felt just too big and quiet with only Hal for company.

If she loved him, it wasn't the fault of their bond, Maggie had told her. Alex hadn't even realised she had been using it as an excuse, but she had been. And now… she didn't know how she really felt. Hal's past was nothing but a long trail of corpses. And she was one of them. Inadvertently, _tangentially_ , but still.

She knew he still harboured guilt over her passing; for the part she had been chosen by Cutler to play. But she also had to recognise that a small part of her actually blamed him for that tangential fault. She had partially used it as an excuse that he _owed_ her. She had continually pushed at him, needled him and stubbornly refused to listen to him all out of a sense of entitlement. And according to Maggie, she had opened the channel to his memories because she _wanted_ to know. It had struck her then, on a mundane and unremarkable side street of Barry, that she had nothing and no one to blame but her own stubborn-damned self.

Hal had tried to push her away. He had tried in _so_ many ways. He had straight up and repeatedly told her that he was bad news, that Cutler was right, that she had no business staying. That she should ' _finish her business and leave'_. Even from the aggressive onslaught of withdrawal, he had tried to protect her in the only way he could; with terrible, brutal honesty.

Hal hated himself, that much was clear. His attempts to set things right only made her confusion worse. Was he seeking redemption? Forgiveness? Even though it was painfully clear he didn't think himself deserving… which maybe was why he couldn't have told her he loved her, until it slipped out in anger. He probably hadn't planned to tell her at all. Not in so many words, anyway.

Did she love him? Could she still face herself if she did? How _could_ she have come to love him when everything she knew and everything she continued to learn was so savagely, _monstrously_ wrong?

Except, that wasn't Hal _now_.

Now he was kind, and caring, if a bit odd. Careful and strong, if a bit systematic, with a sincere compassion for those around him; none of which were the characteristics of a monster. She could _feel_ the good in him. She had come to know that good in him well… Just as she had come to know the dark. Staring head-on into the fathomless depth of that darkness, made the contrast of _good_ and light all the more staggering.

She knew then, walking back to the tall, brick townhouse that had slowly become her home, that without the contrast, she wouldn't have fallen for him at all. She was amused by his Forrest Gump tendencies, that was true, but it was that undercurrent of dark mystery that had kept her coming back. That continual wanting to know.

But now, on an apparent stakeout, in wait for one vampire to lead them to another vampire, and with Hal still not talking to her, Alex was growing impatient. "I don't get why we can't just go and ask him," she grumbled.

"He knows me," Hal answered without looking at her. "Not the pleasant me," he added. "We will wait, then follow."

"Great," Alex muttered sarcastically, then leaned against a lamp post. "I've seen some hipsters who can quaff serious quantities of coffee."

"He usually sees Rosanna on Fridays, according to Rook. It shouldn't be long."

If Alex didn't know any better, she would think the young man they were stalking _was_ a hipster, not a vampire older than her Da. They watched Steven Pyke through the fogged windows of the cafe across the lane for what seemed like forever. He drained a full mug, then immediately ordered another while he fidgeted with his phone. His dark jeans were perfectly fitted, as was his shirt. The look was complete by a pair of dark rimmed glasses and perfectly tousled hair. Between the outfit and and his squared jaw line, he struck Alex as a blue-eyed Buddy Holly.

When he finally stood, donning a black jacket in the cafe window, Alex unnecessarily felt the urge to stretch out stiff limbs. The cafe door opened with a jingle and their quarry headed out, tilting up his collar against the damp. Alex immediately started after him, eager to get a move on, but Hal caught her hand and held her back. "He can see you," he cautioned.

Only after Spike was almost a full block ahead did Hal start walking. They paced him from across the street, a block behind. When Spike approached an intersection, Hal slowed his stride only to resume with more speed just as the traffic signal changed. The flow of following someone without being seen was practised and natural.

"Okay, how many times have you done this? Because it's a little creepy." Alex was only half joking, which Hal merely shrugged off.

They had gone about six more blocks when Spike slowed, suddenly pausing to answer the phone in his pocket and turning towards the street while he spoke. Hal kept walking, not changing his pace in the slightest, but Alex hesitated. Phone to ear, Spike glanced her way casually, then did a double-take flick of his eyes in recognition back to Alex.

Hal slowed, closing his umbrella when he was nearly even with Spike across the street, who completely froze as his attention was drawn. Hal took a step forward, extending his hands away from his sides in a non-threatening manner. But Spike lowered his mobile, mouthed the word " _Shit!_ " then took off into a full-tilt run. With an exasperated growl, Hal launched after him, narrowly dodging an auto and putting on speed.

Normally, Hal was quite fast, but not now. Not with his latent injury from Hetty's attack with Tom's blood. Spike was starting to get away and a budding urge to stop him rose up in Alex. Before she could think it through, she teleported to be right in front of the fleeing vampire. He was stealing a look back at Hal, so didn't see Alex until it was too late. He ran right into her.

She caught him by the shoulders and somehow managed to keep them both from tumbling to the pavement. The moment of surprise gone, Spike fought desperately to get past her; to get away from Hal's swift approach. He planted one good shove against her before Hal caught up with them and snagged the vampire's collar, yanking him away.

He slammed Spike forward, face-first into the iron railing separating the tiny garden of a townhouse from the street. He brandished his umbrella in a staff-like block between them, holding Spike's arms down. "Hello Steven." Hal scoffed the greeting, wincing from his injured leg but hiding the weakness.

" _Shitshitshitshit_!" Spike blubbered. "I don't know where he is I swear! I didn't -"

Hal shoved Spike again and Alex took a step back, alarmed by the force of it. "Can you be civil? I'm not here to hurt you," he added. Spike continued to struggle, obviously disbelieving Hal.

"Hey - we just want to talk alright?" she tried.

"I've heard that before," Spike retorted, buckling under Hal's force with his face pressed to the pickets. He finally stilled, abandoning his struggle and Hal slowly began to lower the umbrella. He had nearly let go when there was some small hint of movement and Hal grabbed Spike's collar again, spinning him around. "I would rather there wasn't a further scene than what we've had already. _Can you be civil_?"

Spike caught his breath, finally looking Hal in the eyes then swallowed nervously. Shakily, he nodded.

"Good." Hal's sneered tone struck Alex as being familiar - familiar to her dreams. He was tapping into that side of himself - into _Lord Harry_ \- to exert control over the younger vampire. "We are working for the same cause. You can calm down."

Spike's eyes widened, "The Department?" He shook himself then the blue of his eyes darkened. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because Dominic Rook told me where to find you."

Spike nodded once, dropping his gaze to analyze the pavement. When he looked back up, it was with determination, "Do you know where Mr. Turner is?"

"You can know he's safe. Where is your mistress this evening?"

Spike paused, then righted his glasses. Alex didn't even think vampires needed glasses. Maybe it was a fashion statement, or his attempt at a disguise. If he had been working for Richard she guessed the police might be looking for him too. "I was about to meet her," he admitted cautiously.

"Where?"

"She asked me to be her date," Spike stated reluctantly.

"Where," Hal repeated.

"Her gallery. I was just about to catch a bus and -" Spike started with a hesitantly helpful tone, but Hal suddenly turned away. He stepped towards the lane and commandeered a taxicab with barely a pause.

"Oh," Spike murmured with a brush of hand through his hair. "Expedient."

Hal opened the cab's door and motioned for Alex, then nodded to Spike. "Great. Thank you."

Alex scooted into the cab with a furrowed glance back to Spike who had already started to back away. Hal closed the door, looking as if he had changed his mind about the back seat and joined the driver in the front. "You know where we're going?" she asked.

"Camberwell," his answer was directed to the driver.

* * *

Melodious laughter and a golden glow spilled onto the pavement, reaching beyond the wrought-iron gates. The stately building had been converted to a contemporary gallery a hundred years prior but still retained it's grace. Inside, the the tall walls ached a pure brightness, washed with the kind of Door-white light that a vampire could never hope to achieve. The fact that tonight's exhibition's primary focus was a thick contrast of crimson and black was no shocking surprise.

Voices and music washed over him, the cadence voluminous and the air thick with red wine and warm, heated bodies. Hal recognized the work now. Richard had a piece in the lobby of their office building.

The crowd was young, fashionable and well off. Plain white shirts paired with the finest Italian leather. Extravagant earrings dangling above denim. This was a market of casual means, of expenditures for pleasure. Given the lack of information listed on the labels, the paintings of "Zanna Bell" were pleasurable expenditures indeed.

The artist in question was nowhere to be seen. Real-world celebrity never did do a vampire well - not since the invention, and subsequent availability of photographic cameras. Hal continued to scan the room just as the centre began to clear and three identically dressed women appeared from separate corners. The music shifted to a pulsing electric hum and they began to dance. Muscles toned and stretching, the dance was fluid, modern and immediately caught the appreciative eye of his hunger. So much so, that when Alex took his hand, he flinched. He was on edge in a room with this many people, his attention and focus scattering. She must have sensed his growing discomfort as she wasn't dissuaded. She squeezed his hand and stepped closer to him. While one dancer performed a stunningly slow lift of one long leg, Alex whispered in his ear, "Do you see her?"

"No," he answered and pulled at Alex, shifting so she was in front of him. The crowd was pressing in to gain a better view of the performance, and he knew that the idea of accidentally being walked-through disturbed her greatly. Humans however, will naturally ebb around a ghost, for the most part. They could sense the dead among them even if they weren't cognizant. Whether Alex believed that or not, he could still use the fact to ensure an extra buffer. She tensed at first - the undercurrent that had been between them all day still at the forefront - but then backed against him, softening with the contact.

"What does she look like?" she asked, leaning against his torso. Hal merely shrugged and shifted his weight into a casual stance, leaning into the handle of his propped umbrella. But that was when he saw her.

Even from a partial side view, he knew her; knew the bones of her, knew that deer-like grace, that impossibly small waist over long legs. As the prey knows its predator, she sensed him watching. Their eyes locked from across the room, past the circle of performance and fifty beating hearts, and held. Rosanna's lips parted with the hint of surprise, but she caught herself and glanced away. When she looked back, he kept her gaze, answering the question on her face. Alex had her attention fixed on the dancers as she dropped her hands into the pockets of her jacket and huffed, "This is shite."

"Shh," he cautioned, still keeping sight of Rosanna. As the performance was nearing a peak, she abruptly turned away and pointedly wove through the crowd. She paused at the set of stairs at the back of the room marked "Staff Only", the open cut of her dress showing a plunging line of bare skin that she seemed to flaunt before she glanced back at him.

"Now," he whispered and took Alex by the arm to guide her into movement. Purposeful and direct, he heeded Rosanna's invitation, weaving deftly through the clumps of people. "Please follow my lead," he whispered to Alex, who thankfully nodded.

Rosanna was waiting for them in a private sitting room upstairs, one hip leaning against a red velvet sofa and a thin flute of champagne in her hand.

"So. The rumours _are_ true," she proclaimed, then shook her head with an animalistic grace. She looked just the same. Hal had wondered if she would have cut her hair, but no. It still cascaded past her shoulders in a dark satin avalanche of waves. She took a step toward them, black dress and red heels adding to her sway. She was drunk. Possibly even blood-drunk. This could either play into his favour, or go very wrong. He probably shouldn't have allowed Alex to come.

"Rosanna," he acknowledged cooly.

She paused mid-way to him and her face scrunched. A silence stretched into nearing awkward, when finally she said, "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Forgive me. Rosanna Bellante, this is Alex Millar."

"Erm, how do you do?" Alex answered but Rosanna didn't even give her the courtesy of a nod.

"I don't," she said, still not taking her eyes off Hal. "Forgive you, that is." She dropped her arm to dangle the flute of her champagne from her side.

Hal sighed, but stood a little straighter. "I know."

Rosanna pursed her full lips, then released the expression. She took one purposeful stride forward and slapped Hal. _Hard_.

Alex jumped but Hal didn't move, didn't even flinch. He just took it, as if he had expected as much. In one sharp action, Alex came to realise that he knew this woman far better than he had let on.

"You fucking _bastard_!" Rosanna shouted. His lack of response had only seemed to enrage her more.

"I know," he answered wearily.

"I mourned you and then had to pick up the pieces. They all thought I had something to do with it! It took me decades - _decades_ to gain back their trust! And now here you are? No. Just when everything -" she hugged her arm across her slender torso. "How dare you show your face here. How _dare_ you."

"You're drunk," Hal declared distastefully.

"So? It's my party you chose to crash. You don't control me anymore."

"I never did."

"You are such a sick piece of work." She turned to Alex, finally acknowledging her. "I'd watch myself duck. Hope you didn't already give him your heart. He doesn't give them back you see," Rosanna spat.

Until that moment, Alex hadn't been much in the presence of a female vampire. With the exception of the quick rush of their fight with Hetty, all of her encounters had been with men; Hal, Cutler, Snow, Richard, Adam and Carl. Seeing what she was coming to recognize as the vampire appeal of charmed darkness and confident allure placed in a woman was heady. This woman oozed power and seduction beneath her anger. High flushed cheekbones, a delicate chin and flawless skin with ruddy lips. Her dress tailored to be just tight enough, heels worn with predatory confidence, and her thick black hair shined as if it had been made of polished silk. In short, she was absolutely, stunningly gorgeous and everything Alex was not.

And she _knew_. You didn't get a slap like that for friendship. _Shite_.

"I never forced you to do anything you didn't wish," Hal continued calmly, with an even and placating voice.

"Oh no, I was all too willing. A willing fool! Once I realised that, you were easy to replace," she scoffed haughtily.

"What? With Spike?" Hal queried, innocently enough but Rosanna's face fell.

"Oh God, what have you done with him?"

Hal shrugged nonchalantly, "Not a thing. Though, I may have frightened him away from your party. He scurried like a rabbit."

Rosanna swallowed, her demeanour sobering slightly while she stared at Hal. When he didn't elaborate further, she shifted her gaze to Alex. Her eyes were a deep blue which didn't give anything away as she assessed her. Glancing back to Hal, she pursed her lips, seemingly collecting herself, then asked, "Why have you come?"

"I needed to speak with someone I can trust."

"So why not Richard? He's the dodger who kept mum about you all these years."

"Richard is missing. But I believe you knew that."

Rosanna shook her tresses, more in irritation than denial. Then she tilted her head and smiled, "I should take you to the Council."

"It would be a lark to see you try," Hal answered immediately and Alex tensed. Was this what he had meant when he asked her to follow his lead? Did he know he was leading them into a fight? They all stared each other down, mere feet apart and of equal height. Although, Alex realised, even with the heels Rosanna was a couple of inches shorter. Hal gave her a soft smile with a disarming opening, "Or, you could hear me out. We know who destroyed the club."

"As do I. Werewolves, with a side of Chinese whispers," Rosanna shrugged one bare shoulder. "The bets are already running for how many of the pups it'll take to pay off the replacement."

Hal didn't respond to that, but instead asked conversationally, "Were you going to the fight on Monday, by chance?"

Rosanna was not duped however and she peered at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Don't." Hal asserted. "Stay in London. Organize some local amusement."

"Why." She repeated the question, reminding Alex very much of Hal's own tactic.

"Our friends the Lobisomem. They're out of hiding."

"I'm not afraid of your little pack darling. We'd still outnumber them ten to one."

"And if it were _all_ of the werewolves from across the country?" Hal asked and Rosanna's bravado left her in a slow crestfall. "There has been a Route. In Barry."

"Why?" She whispered the question this time.

"Somehow, they plan to kill us all."

"From Barry, of all places," Rosanna huffed. "Didn't _you_ already do those honours?"

"Hal didn't kill the Old Ones," Alex burst in frustration, unable to stay silent any longer. Rosanna turned her dark blue gaze on her.

"Sorry sweet, but who _are_ you exactly?"

"Alex," Hal cautioned but Alex continued over him.

"Just someone who gives a shite, sugar. Though, I'm not sure why. Go ahead. Come to Barry and join the massacre. It'll be a grand rollick of a party."

Rosanna blinked at Alex's fiery taunting, then turned back to Hal. "You are really trying to warn us off, aren't you?"

"Yes," Hal answered plainly.

"And why is that?" She asked, clearly trying to understand his motivations.

"Because there are those I'd rather not see dead."

"Your little werewolves," she scoffed.

"There are those on either side," he answered meaningfully, giving Rosanna that open and honest look that had softened Alex's heart and temper so many times before. Her lips parted and her breath hitched. Whether Hal truly meant it or not, it worked. Rosanna Bellante believed him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Chinese whispers is an antiquated phrase for playing "gossip" or "pass the message."
> 
> * I rarely feel inclined to share my musical nods, but Elbow's "The Bones of You" was so prominently running through my head for the gallery scenes of this chapter that I must give the credit.


	25. Bitter Immunities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._   
> _Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Huge thanks to those of you who have commented! Every little note has been a sparkle in my day. It is nice to know there are those of you who want to read this yarn as I spin it. And now, onwards to a hop, skip and reveal in the skein..._
> 
> * * *

"Well, that was pleasant," Hal proclaimed, tucking his umbrella under his arm as they stepped back out onto the street. He started off in the direction of a busier intersection in search of another taxicab for their next errand.

"I take it we're not done then?" Alex asked, following him with stomping footfalls. "Any more old-flame surprises you want to tell me about? Maybe _before_ we bloody meet them?"

"Rosanna was not -" Hal started, glanced at her indignant expression, then rolled his eyes and kept walking. "No, that was quite enough for one day. We'll be visiting Turner's next."

"Good. We can teleport straight there and then be home so I can wither into the telly. I need some fecking football after that."

"Too much culture for you?" Hal jibed with one corner of his mouth raising in a half smile.

"No, too much," Alex started then made an exasperated hour-glass shape in the air with her hands, at which Hal raised his eyebrows. "Argh. Shouldn't we be finding an alley or some such?"

Hal paused at the end of the street and watched a few cars go by. "I didn't love her," he uttered plainly.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Alex demanded, but she only half meant it. The issue between them wasn't Rosanna. But it felt good to have something more concrete than the speculations of an old ghost to direct her frustration toward.

"We're not going to the office," Hal answered her previous question as he stepped forward to hail a cab.

* * *

Allison let go of Tom's hand when they entered the warehouse for that evening's training. She had wanted to support Tom in this, but with one quick scan of the voluminous room she realised he had grossly understated his need for help. The cavernous space did little to mask the fact that it was filled with werewolves. She could smell them. The scent sank through her lungs and called to something deep in her blood. A _belonging_ ; a sudden and stunning relief of an inset loneliness she hadn't even realised she'd had.

But these were strangers - strangers who she instantly felt connected to. It was unnerving. And downright weird.

An elder gentleman approached them and clapped Tom on the back with a whisper into his ear by way of greeting. As soon as he spoke, Allison knew this must be one of the Irish pack Tom had first met.

"We've run through the blocking and practise with some o'them earlier, but there's been a question rippling through the ranks," he stated, then paused as he noticed her lingering. Straightening, he extended his hand to Allison. "Conal Gwedore," he introduced himself gruffly.

"Allison Larkin," she took the man's firm handshake, answering with one of her own. He smiled.

"Ah, you be Tom's _leannán_. Tis a pleasure."

"I'm here to help with the efforts - to rally the ranks and temper the troops, as it were."

"As a mate to this one? I'm certain you can lassie," Conal grinned, immediately relaxing with Allison as part of the pack.

"What's the question?" Tom asked, returning to Conal's first statement.

"They be wanting to know how to fight through the transition. How you get past the pain."

Tom's eyebrows pinched together, then he nervously ran his hand over the back of his head. With a shrug, he dropped his hand into his pocket. "That's the thing. I don't really. It still hurts."

"Well lad, you'll be having to tell them something. Because you've a reputation as being able to use it. Now be the time to share how."

Several of the people in the open expanse of warehouse had started to gather around them as they had been talking. Tom turned away from Conal and cleared his throat in awkward officiality before addressing the group.

"The turn is gonna hurt no matter what you do," he declared. "But it hurts a lot less if you don't fight it coming." He had their attention now, but he glanced back to Allison. She gave him a reassuring smile. He still didn't trust his public speaking abilities but he was better at it than he thought. He was a natural at being disarming.

"You can't ever forget - your wolf is an animal. If you back him into a corner, he's gonna have'ta bite something. He's always goin'ta win so there's no use fighting him, see? You've got to be gentle with him for the turn."

" _Gentle_?" a woman called out from the assembled group. "How the bloody hell can you be gentle to something that's clawing it's way out of you?"

"I don't fight my wolf Tom," Milo added, stepping forward with his arms folded across his chest. "And yet he still leaves me without capacity. How have you managed to fight through that? How have you used your wolf against vampires?"

"Have you accepted him? Actually accepted your wolf - that he's a part of you?" Tom asked.

Milo hardened his glare, dropping his hands into his pockets. "He's a curse I've come to live with."

"Exactly. If that's your stance then o'course it ain't easy," Tom answered. He looked around the warehouse, then pointedly up at the expanse of trussed roof, and then back at the group. "We got to get outdoors. The wolf wants to run - always, even now - to feel the earth underfoot and be without walls. If you want the wolf to work for you, you've all got to start working for your wolf. And tonight is a good a night as any."

"To do what, exactly?" another called out.

"To run until your true senses take over. Who's with me?"

At first, the group exchanged a few hesitant glances with each other. To be encouraging, Allison shot her hand up. Then, slowly, the first woman who had questioned Tom raised hers as well. Within seconds, they were no longer alone. Hands raised all across the cavernous space.

* * *

Alex teleported to stand outside while Hal settled up with the cabbie. The stately, tree lined street was hushed by its narrowness. She had no idea where they were, but judging by the upkeep and perfection of the tall, old homes, this was a very posh neighborhood.

The door to the taxicab closed and the car departed in a reflection of red tail lights. Hal came to stand beside her on the pavement.

"I am going to require your expert assistance, if you'll grant it," he said, glancing towards the heavy black painted door in the entry across from them.

She stared at him openly as he examined the darkened windows, one hand in his pocket and the other casually holding his umbrella. It was the first thing he had said since declaring they weren't going to Turner's office. Their cab ride here had passed in silence, with Hal sullenly staring out the window at the city and tapping his fingers in repetitive counting. Alex had sat unseen in the back seat, knowing it would be awkward for her to try to engage him in conversation, but feeling the silence nonetheless.

She sighed and motioned towards the door. "You need me to teleport us in?"

"It would be preferable if you could simply unlock the door," he answered with a hint of warmth.

"Oh. Right." Alex approached the entry he had indicated. Underneath an iron-screened panel sat a heavy and ornate knocker. Brass botanicals spread in a sun-like radius from a primitive and threatening face at the center. The handle was a twined motif of snakes dropping below the floral iron. "So, is it still breaking and entering if nothing is broken?" she joked half-heartedly as Hal joined her on the stoop. With the barest sip of concentration, she propelled herself forward to the other side of the door.

Despite the posh feel of the neighborhood and the ornate presence of the door, the interior still caused Alex to do a double-take. What once had been a row of slender townhomes had been renovated into a massive, open-concept flat. Two previous entries were now filled with ornately moulded built-ins with the actual entry at the center. The vaulted foyer opened to a staircase that led upwards to a darkened landing, and the polished floor glinted in the pale light from the leaded glass window over the door. Flanking the stairway were a pair of life-sized, wood-carved warriors, complete with spears and painted feathers, that startled her briefly. She began to make out other tribal masks and primitive weapons adorning the walls leading past the foyer. It was an extensive collection. Still, Hal's single light knock against the door from the outside made her jump.

She turned around to face the door and unbolted the latch above the handle. As the door swung open, she leaned against the frame. "You know, for someone who lives for-effing-ever, you're rather impatient."

Hal crossed the threshold and rolled his eyes skyward as he shut the door behind. Without turning on lights he strode purposely past the stairs and Alex followed. Her frustration with him was rising. _She_ had been rather patient today, all things considered. But now they were alone and he continued to be brusque. "Can we talk about this?" she asked.

They entered a living room of minimalist perfection, as if it were poised for a magazine shoot. A seamless steel banquet table, large enough to seat a dozen, separated the space from an austere kitchen. "About your new-found afterlife of crime?" he bantered, avoiding her question as he scanned the space.

Aiming for the closed double doors on the opposite side, Hal swung them open then proceeded into the next darkened room. "If you mean Rosanna, there's nothing to talk about."

"Hah! That I seriously doubt," she snorted. "I mean all of it. This morning and Maggie."

"This will only take a moment. Then we can go," Hal answered, without answering. She sighed but followed him into the room.

Double-height, the space was nearly devoid of furnishings except for a pair of plush leather wingback chairs and a behemoth of an old desk. Muted light filtered through from the street behind a gauzy wall of sheer curtains. The remaining walls were filled nearly floor to ceiling with paintings, all of them portraits.

Women, men, young and old; they were varied stylistically and numerous. Hal instantly crossed the room, barely taking notice, but Alex was floored. There had to be over thirty to a wall! There weren't any labels like in a gallery, and each was framed in a similar golden gilding, making it a cohesive private collection.

Hal leaned his umbrella against the heavy old desk in the corner and began to rummage through, while she scanned the room. She noticed a pair of portraits that had little red ribbons discreetly strapped out of the back left corners. Her eye now drawn to the red flags, she spotted two more. Then, her breath caught when she saw a familiar face staring down at her. Drawn like a moth to flame, she stepped towards it. Cutler was dressed in a smart suit, black and pinstriped, his red tie accenting his cherub blonde complexion, his expression neutral. The portrait had a hint of innocence to it, reminiscent of the Cutler from Hal's memory, and not the self-assured, maniacal man who had killed her.

"What is this place?" she asked, peeling her eyes away from the painting.

"Richard's real office. His archive. Rook may believe that he knows everything," Hal tutted, rifling through drawers. "It should be destroyed, but sentimental fools are not easily parted from folly."

"These are _all_ clients?"

Hal was about to answer, but he paused with a tilt of his head and a quick glance towards the darkened doorway.

More startling than the crack of sound was the rush of air - as if a full balloon had suddenly popped and expelled into her mouth. Befuddled as to why Cutler's portrait had somehow gone askew, Alex turned to see what had given Hal pause a millisecond prior.

The white fabric bunched around her scrawny elbows flashed brightly in the pale light as she lowered the pistol. Hetty gave a glaring smile from the doorway, "Gotcha."

A momentary panic hit Alex right in the gut and she looked down at her unharmed torso. Still, her hands rose in an automatic, if delayed, defense. "Did you just bloody shoot me?"

"Fat load of good it did anyone," Hetty laughed with a toss of her braids. Her knobby knees stuck out under the hem of what seemed to be a man's dress shirt. She padded towards them in bare feet. As Hal took a step towards Alex, Hetty instantly raised her pistol with a sharp aim towards his head. "Don't," she commanded, all humour bleached from her voice. "Stay right where you are. And lose the loafers."

"Hetty, I -"

"Ditch the shoes shithead." She ordered, aim unwavering. Hal held her stony gaze and didn't move. "You - sweet tits - over there." Hetty motioned for Alex to move closer to the wall. "Wouldn't want this slippery fish to swim away, eh?"

Alex stole a glance at Hal and Hetty shook her head. "Uh-uh. The second you teleport, he's getting shot."

Hal knew he had very little with which to appease Hetty. She couldn't really hurt Alex - there wasn't anything at hand with which to do so. And there didn't appear to be a stake present, so she couldn't really hurt him. Nor, he wagered, would she. Being shot again wasn't a pleasant idea, but it also wasn't a real threat. Which, he hoped Alex recognized. Judging from her hesitation however, she was obviously weighing the implications. In contrast to the multiple quick scenarios his mind was playing through, he moved slowly to heed Hetty's request. Perhaps they could entertain her demands long enough for a chance to teleport cleanly.

"Well-well! Aren't I a lucky duck. Wishes really do come true," the little vampire sing-songed. "What the fuck are you doing here? Your pal Dick is up and gone."

She kept her aim trained on Hal as he stepped clear of his shoes. "Unless… you've seen him?" she asked curiously, but then shook her head. "You wouldn't be here to pay dear ol' Het a sweet little visit, so what do you want?"

"Put away your toy and maybe I'll tell you," Hal answered, standing stiffly in his socks. Alex tried to catch his eye, but his gaze remained fixed on Hetty.

"Nah, not just yet," Hetty dropped the muzzle of the gun so it was pointed at his thigh. "How's the leg?" she snickered.

When he didn't answer she rolled her eyes skyward. "Oh for fucks sake Hal. What _are_ you drinking these days? Juice boxes? Whisky? What? And I mean it on the shoes sweet," she nodded at Alex with a casual wave of her pistol. "Dickie may have flown the coop, but we'll still respect his house. Oh wait - you _can't_ ," she mocked.

"Tea," Hal spoke calmly, before Alex could enlighten Hetty about her abilities. "I'll take tea, if you must."

"Huh. Well, I'll be warming up a dredge of the downstairs tenant. Sure you don't -"

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself. Spit-spot," she waved them forward. "Join me in the kitchen, won't you?" She peered suspiciously at Alex. "You first."

Alex looked to Hal, and to where Hetty was aiming her pistol, but he shook his head, "She won't harm us."

"Try me," Hetty sneered. "Kitchen. Now! Tea won't up and brew itself."

Alex swallowed and started towards the doorway. Hetty stepped forward opposite her, keeping her aim on Hal steady. "There's a dear," Hetty turned as Alex passed, following her with piercing eyes. "Now you," she said to Hal without taking her eyes off Alex.

Hal made to reach for his shoes and Hetty fired, the sound stabbing a sudden panic through Alex. The wood splintered the floor where the bullet had hit, a fraction past Hal's hand. "Leave em! I know you'd rather get shot than step foot outside in your sockies."

She marched them through the living room to the large, steel table. "Take a seat ghostie," she commanded when Alex had reached the head of the table. Alex glared at Hetty, but then pulled the chair out and sat while watching Hal. He approached the table with an impassive expression that she was coming to recognize as coiled. "Hal, be a dear and sit at eight," Hetty waved her pistol casually then proceeded to the kitchen.

Without taking his eyes off Hetty, he pulled free a chair a few away from Alex and sat. "Sod your manners - elbows on the table you two," Hetty called as she backed into the kitchen, facing them. One handed, she reached into the sink and extracted a mug. Without a glance she took another backwards step and set the contemporary white china cup on the counter, then clicked on an electric kettle. Hal leaned into his elbow, chin cupped in his hand as his eyes followed her movements.

"This isn't necessary Hetty," he said, staring right at her hand which held the pistol.

"Oh! You're gonna stick around and talk to me casually are you? Horse dung."

"What is it that you want?" Alex asked, exasperated. She was ready to teleport them out of there with the slightest opening from the girl, or any indication from Hal, but he remained neutral.

"I just want a chat with my dear ol' mucker Harry," Hetty smiled sweetly as she opened the fridge, extracting a stoppered glass bottle half-full with sluggish, red blood. She leaned her narrow hip into the cupboard to reach with one extended finger for the release button on the microwave. "You already here and all."

She put her bottle in and slammed the door. The microwave beeped, then illuminated the kitchen with a warm light as it came on. "Ugh, leftovers," she scoffed.

"What are you doing here?" Hal asked.

"I was waiting for Dick," she shrugged as she opened a drawer and pulled out a tea sachet. "Only he didn't come home. Given the way you two just waltzed in here, looks like you knew it. Shame-shame shady dealer. You are nothing but suspicious these days."

"Hal hasn't done anything wrong," Alex tried, flattening her palms against the cool metal of the table.

"Exactly. That's the problem, peaches."

Hetty poured hot water into the cup and dunked the tea sachet in, giving it a good poke with her finger. She walked it over and slid the cup across the table to Hal who made no motion for it. She peered at him with a churlish frown until the microwave chimed.

After retrieving her bottle she joined them at the table, settling into the chair across from Hal. With her her pistol still aimed at him, she took a sloshy slurp from the glass. She was obviously trying to get a rise out of him, but he gave no outward indication that he was bothered. Hal had slipped into his impenetrable poker face again. Half the liquid drained, Hetty slammed the glass down on the table, licking away a blatant bit of red at the edge of her mouth. "Yummy," she taunted with a grin. Out of the baggy pocket of her shirt, she produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Alex widened her eyes as the seemingly little girl lit her smoke and took a deep drag. Hal hoped the action would help dissuade Alex of the façade. Hetty was nearly as old as he was and she used her camouflage exceptionally well. She exhaled a cloud of smoke straight towards him.

"You know, that was quite a stunt you pulled in '55," she started conversationally. "We all thought you were proper dead. Yours truly included. I can't believe Richard kept mum 'bout it this long. And you! Living with a dog. Huh."

"Richard has his value," Hal answered stiffly, not making any indication to take his tea or respond to her subvert needling.

"Yes, he does, don't he?" Hetty laughed, taking another long drag of her smoke.

"You never liked him. Why are you working with him now?" Hal asked, equally conversationally.

"Richard has his value," Hetty echoed, then shrugged. "He's connected to the peons. I take it you've seen his ugly mug?"

"He is at a safe house of sorts."

"Oh is he now? So then why are you here, ass-hat?" she asked again, relaxing into her chair with her gun hand resting on a raised knee. She tapped her ashes directly onto the steel tabletop.

"Milo." Hal lied as he seized the opportunity to see what Hetty knew.

"Snow's lapdog?"

"What do you know of him?"

"Aside from him being a right wanker?" She shrugged. "He was nicer than you."

"Where did he come from? How did he get involved with Snow?"

"Snow captured him. He was killing off our guards. Then he demanded a job. Queer if you ask me, but Snow was amused." Hetty waved dismissively with her cigarette, ashes scattering on the table between her and Hal. "Are you refusing my hospitality?"

"Your tea making skills are atrocious."

"So? You're still the one being rude," Hetty tutted, then added. "I'll put down my toy if you join me in a drink."

Hal held her gaze, but in true childlike stare-down, she wasn't deterred. Hal reached for the cup, the warmth friendly against his fingers as he raised it. Alex was looking rapidly between him and Hetty, surely trying to suss out the game they were playing. He took a polite sip, swallowed, then set the mug back down. Hetty smiled and set her gun on the table with a metallic clank just as the barely detectable bitter undercurrent burned the back of his throat.

"Damn it Hetty."

"Damn your pal Dickie. His kitchen," she shrugged but grinned slyly. "Gave me quite the surprise this morning. Besides, it would have made a vile mess if I'd actually shot you." Hal flushed, crimson flooding his cheeks and he gulped a breath, then choked.

"What the hell?" Alex stood, chair scuffing loudly across the floor as she took a step towards Hal.

"Not so fast sugar-pie," Hetty brushed aside the shirt draped over her knee to expose a familiar blade strapped to her scrawny thigh. Alex knew that knife. "I'll dispel you mid skip and it will be ages 'fore you can pull yourself together. Who knows what that'd do to him."

Hal gasped, his knuckles going white against the edge of the table as he fought against the hostility of the tea, and lost. Despite Hetty's threat with the knife, Alex took another step towards him. Wildly, his eyes met hers - to _jump - do it anyway - leave without him_ \- but his throat had closed. As his body quickly processed the poison, the burning paralysis of it spread. His arm slid and his head hit the table.

"Or," Hetty watched Hal slump forward with one raised eyebrow before she continued. "You can do what I want and I'll let you both on your merry way when he comes around. We're a resilient lot - it won't take long. Your choice, doll."

Alex clenched her teeth. "What do you want?"

Hetty took a long drag off her cigarette, then stubbed it out on the table."Take his hand," she declared as she freed the blade from its harness. She scooted off her chair and stood, coming around the table towards them. "And give me yours."

Instinctively, Alex tucked her hands into her pockets. "Why? What are you going to do?"

"Oh come on - he's had to have told you by now? You two all chum-like? You're a rare treat of a creampuff." She clasped her hands behind her back and casually sauntered towards them. "I couldn't believe the spit-fire timing of you. And now that I know you're both still attached, as it were, I'm curious."

"How did you even know?" Alex asked, stalling. Maybe she could stall enough for Hal to wake up.

Hetty laughed, "I could see it all over you. It's obvious. Then Richard of all people confirmed it. Harry's got you tethered to him."

"But he said even the Old Ones don't know how it happens," Alex stuttered, stealing another glance at Hal. He was out cold, cheek pressed to the metal of the table.

"That's one thing Harry-shitting-Yorke didn't lie about. We don't. We _do_ know how to look for them however. A ghost that haunts a vampire… extra strength… tenacity. I've never seen one bound to an Old One though. It's a bit of a mind-fuck," Hetty smiled, then her smile turned sly. "The blood of a bonded Hangori is what gives us our immunities cotton-tits," Hetty stated, watching the shock blossom across Alex's face. "Snow would entrap one every half century or so. We'd all re-up as it were… and indoctrinate any newbies Snow felt worthy of keeping the secret."

"That's… that's it?"

"Well, you have to be in physical contact with your host of course. And there's ritual and some tidy sacrifice involved, but yes. That about does it."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know you won't breathe a word. It wouldn't do for your pretty self-preservation."

Hetty came right up to Alex, the top of her braids barely reaching Alex's sternum. Her fingers, cool and small, wrapped over Alex's wrist with a little tug. "Take his hand and give me yours," she repeated.

Alex bit her lip with a glance at Hal before releasing her hand from her pocket. Hetty's fingers slid up the inside of her wrist with a small pressure, and Alex cautiously took Hal's outstretched hand. Hetty traced the ridge of her palm, and Alex watched the girl follow her life-line like a palmist. Alex didn't feel the same magnetic tingle as when Hal did it, but the sensation was odd nonetheless. Like an echo.

Hetty turned her hand over, clasping her fingers as she ran her thumb lightly across the bones. "Wow," she uttered, concentrating fully on holding Alex's hand. This was old news. Yeah, she was real through Hal. Alex stole a glance at him. The flush across his cheeks had already died down.

A searing pain hit her wrist as Hetty's teeth punctured through. "Eh!" Alex protested, trying to yank her hand away, but the little girl was deceptively strong. Alex let go of Hal and sent a shockwave of energy through Hetty, pushing her away. The girl's teeth nipped free and she stumbled backwards, licking her lips and eyes alight as Alex rubbed her wrist. The wound was already gone, like it hadn't just happened at all.

"Wow," Hetty repeated, her fangs still out and eyelids lowered in pleasure. Angered, Alex rushed the little vampire with a growl. She just laughed, raising her iron blade and ready to fight, but Alex didn't give her the chance. She hurtled into Hetty, grabbing her by the neck and - _snap_!-

\- they appeared in front of Cutler's skewed portrait. Alex released the sputtering girl then - _snap_!- and she was back next to Hal.

"Hey!" Hetty shouted from the far room. It would take her a few seconds to get her bearings if Hal's first time with teleportation was any indication. Alex took him by the shoulders, testing him and pulling him upright. He was still out.

"Fuck this noise," she muttered, then whisked them to the familiar space of his bedroom, leagues away from the little cursing vampire.

"Hal?" she let go and he fell bonelessly against the pillows of their bed. Her sense of him was dulled. It didn't feel like before - she didn't have that panicked feeling that he was slipping out of reach. He was just… gone.

She curled up next to him and wove her fingers through his hair. "Tasting" from him could very well re-open the block that Maggie had placed, but she needed to know if he was okay. Only then could she face everything she had just learned. Alex let her subconscious slip in.

It wasn't as effortless as before. She dropped into Hal like cool water on a hot day, bracing and sudden. At first, there was nothing. Only blackness. But then she felt a glimmer. Like a dream, as if it were far away and in another room, she heard a rich, melodious and accented voice.

" _This is the moment Hal. What you do now is going to change everything_."


	26. Well-Placed Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._   
> _Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Your reviews, comments and notes make my day. Every time._
> 
> * * *

As if her sight is adjusting to the dimly lit room, Alex begins to make out the ragged form of a dark-skinned man. He's chained to the wall, dirt-smeared and barefoot. There's a musky sharpness to the stifled, cellar air. The whites of his eyes flash and they both pause, listening to the sudden approaching sound of footsteps descending metal stairs. The sound, a staccato beacon, draws Alex into the moment as Hal gauges the distance. Gauges the time they have left.

" _Here it comes…_ "

Hal stares intently at the captive man, then swallows.

"Hit me," he says, stepping in close and dropping to eye level.

The captive's face widens into a shining grin. "With pleasure," he replies before he cracks Hal square in the face with a smack.

The blow still comes as a surprise, even though he had asked for it. Hal whirls with the force, landing to catch himself on the overturned pallet box, and drops the sherry. This close to the change the wolf is strong. Which is why two or more guards, laughing casually with some amusement, were on their way down _right now_ to relocate their wolf to the ring.

Hal shakes his head in an attempt to clear the pain, then picks up the pallet. As he stands, he lets out a roar, smashing the box against the wall next to the werewolf's head. The approaching footsteps suddenly increase in urgency.

He drops the splintered box, pulling free a cracked board. It's rough, but it will have to do. "Grab me," Hal hisses, dropping the plank to hold it hidden in front of his torso.

The shackles that bind him shake musically as the werewolf obliges. He captures the loose ends of Hal's tie and his hand wraps around Hal's throat just as the guards come into view.

"Lord Harry!" one shouts, charging swiftly into the cell to prove his worth and come to the rescue. For one long moment, Hal believes the wolf enjoys this too much and won't let go. The light reflected in his dark eyes change with the oncoming approach. Leo loosens his grip just as the first vampire is about to reach them. Hal whirls, plunging the unexpected stake through the youth's chest.

"Sorry," he says as he wrenches the wood free and turns. The second vampire looks briefly confused as his friend freezes and starts to crack. The slight pause is all Hal needs.

"There was no other way for Leo to escape, I'm afraid," he concludes his apology.

The second guard shatters into dust a mere two seconds after the first. Without wasting a breath of time, Hal immediately removes his braces, and then un-tucks his shirt, cocking his head to listen for more approaching. They knew "Lord Harry" was already down here with their wolf. The corridor above is silent.

"What are you doing? Free me!" Leo demands, with a small hint of desperation. He pulls against his bonds.

"This will buy all the time we need," Hal answers, glancing around the room. It isn't as if he hasn't already thought through this exact scenario. It isn't as if this outcome hadn't already teased the edges of his mind for months. He knows precisely what he is doing, unsavoury as it is. He stands next to one of the ashen piles, dust still rising through the air, and without unlacing, he struggles and steps clear of his shoes. Bending forward, he cups a small handful of ash and lets it sift through his fingers to spatter the leather with white.

"Ah," the werewolf says with realisation.

Hal glances at the wolf as he straightens, briefly irritated that the beast dares to look on, but there isn't time for reticence. He unhooks the metal clasp on his dress trousers and lets them fall. Keeping the buttons intact, he shrugs free of his shirt, then sinks to his haunches to place it on top of the trousers. Reaching for the slumped pile of ashy clothes he cups the fabric, then carefully tilts it. The ash clouds over the stark white of his discarded dress shirt. He adjusts the fabric, moving the braces with a critical eye, then stands. With a grimace of distaste, he shakes more dust out of the guard's garments before swiftly putting them on, thankful he's still drunk enough for this. After fishing through the pockets, he extracts a single key with a shaky breath. He holds it, a distant offering, between thumb and forefinger as he meets the eyes of this man who would claim to be his guide.

They hold each other's gaze until Leo extends his arms, exposing the heavy locks on the shackles. "Our time is swiftly waning," he whispers. Hal remains poised, for one heartbeat, two. Despite his actions, the threshold was not yet crossed. This could still be undone.

"There are tunnels here, passageways. I can guide you to a place they will not be able to follow, but we must be swift," Hal says as he slides the key into the lock and turns. The shackle snaps open and drops. Hurriedly, he continues with the other.

Leo rubs his freed wrists. "We have only moments before I will kill you," he states the fact they both know.

"And then your life will certainly be forfeit. If I fail in achieving your containment, you will be trapped. So," Hal says, stooping to pick up the guard's fallen boots.

" _How fast can you run_?"

Alex shook herself loose and broke from the dream. Of all the memories she could have dropped into. She knew where that story led. She felt confusion weave through her barely suppressed anger. _That was the beginning_. The beginning of the man she had come to love. And she had just dropped right into it. More so than before, she had been him. She could feel his hope just under the surface. Smell the pungency of unwashed werewolf and feel the slick powder of ash in her clothes. That was the beginning of her Hal; the beginning of the version of him she knew.

Everything Hal had done before hadn't suddenly turned off or gone away because he made a choice. But it _did_ change everything going forward. And for Leo, who would have died that day had Hal not chosen to free him. " _This is the moment Hal._ _What you do now will change everything."_ Leo's voice clung to her consciousness like honey. It was a sweet sentiment. How much did he really change though? So much of what he had done, who he had been before was beyond monstrously terrible. It was the very fabric of nightmares.

She had witnessed him raving mad - tied to a chair for weeks lest he return to _that_ man, the murderer he once was. Strapped down to a chair, because until the last of his bloodlust addiction had settled, that was all he wanted. To be set free. To rampage.

_Her Hal_.

She had gone through the motions then - helping to care for him, barely believing Tom's determination. But had she been stuck already, all along? And, he had _known_? Even then, he knew so much more about her condition than he had let on. He had lied to her.

She watched him for a long time, running through what she knew, and what she didn't. She listened to the quiet creak of the house and watched his unchanging, deceptively beautiful face. For a small, painful moment, as she felt him begin to wake, she thought about leaving; to rent-a-ghost herself as far away as imaginable and to never come back.

But she didn't. She stayed. As heart-hurt and angry as she was with Hal, there was too much between them to walk away now. Tom and Allison had become like family and she couldn't imagine leaving without a farewell. And… there were too many questions she needed answers to. She just hoped he'd answer her honestly. For both their sakes.

When he slowly returned to consciousness, the light was too bright. And Alex, looking right at him, was too close.

"Hi there," she said, far too loudly with her face next to his on the pillow. He felt as if he'd been to a jubilee and forgot to stop. He hurt.

Hal groaned and winced his eyes shut. "What happened?"

"What do you think?" Alex answered his question with a sarcastic one. He opened one eye to see she was still close, and looking none too pleased. He swallowed. _As if running into Hetty wasn't bad enough._ For not the first time, he regretted that he didn't end his fellow Old One while he'd had the chance. And given their situation, he doubted it would be the last.

Alex's expression turned dark when he didn't answer, and she sat up a little. "You know damn well what she wanted! How could you have kept something like that from me?"

"To keep you safe," he whispered, tried to sit up and thought better of it. "The less you knew - anyone knew -"

" _Why hurt me if you didn't have to_ , is that it?" she spat. Alex was livid. Hal winced again but she was still staring at him, still holding him to that temper of hers. "You said the Old Ones didn't know how it happens."

"We don't."

"Then how did _we_ fucking happen?"

"I don't know!" he shouted in abrupt frustration. She held her stern expression and he took a steadying breath. His stomach was unsettled and not just from Hetty's tea. "Snow was always on the hunt for unusually strong ghosts. Then, he had us doing so as well. This - us? A Hangori bonding with an Old One hasn't ever happened before. Never."

"So? I still fail to see why you chose not to tell me."

"I thought I could protect you. I thought you would be safe if you didn't know. If _no one_ knew. We had just blown up nearly everyone on the planet who did."

"Not nearly everyone enough!" she muttered with a huff. "So what happens to them, huh?" She didn't have to clarify who she meant, but she did so regardless when he hesitated to answer. "What happens to the Hangori?"

"They fade," Hal uttered with soft admittance, the very words catching in his throat. "They are drained, and they fade."

She closed her eyes, her mouth hardening. "Well isn't that just wonderful." Fire flashed when she opened her eyes. "Is there anything else I should know? Oh wait - I've already asked you that!"

"Alex -"

"You -" she started then shook her head. "You've killed people and drained _souls_ and God knows what else you've done. And I'm _bound_ to you! I've lost a part of myself, and obviously that wasn't bad enough, because now I find out that I'm the dead bloody key to making _more_ fecking super vampires? Great! Just flipping fantastic."

"Do you think I'm proud? I abhor the thought that you could be in danger. As if your death wasn't bad enough! There aren't words to express how much that is not what I want!"

"No, maybe not," Alex skeptically admitted. "But it's what your friend wants, isn't it."

Hal exhaled deeply and sat up. Alex was incredibly, annoyingly astute when she wanted to be. "Yes," he ran his hand through his hair, then pushed off the bed. "Richard has been looking for a back door to Old One status ever since Snow denied him."

"And you were going to give it to him?"

"I said I would help him. If he helped me stay hidden. Long before _we_ happened, I told him what to look for."

"Oh Jesus," Alex whispered. Something flashed briefly in her expression - another layer of understanding peeled back. He turned away. Shrugged off his jacket and stared down at his socks. His shoes had been left behind. "Oh bloody hell," Alex cursed and dropped her head into her hands. "And here I thought he just had the horn on," she gave a pitiable laugh. Hal set his jacket down at the foot of the bed and started to go to her, but stopped.

She looked up at him then, her face all anguish with her fury gone. "We're well and truly fucked, aren't we?"

He shook his head, but didn't answer her. He couldn't answer her. She remained silent for a time, giving him a reprieve from her onslaught until she sighed, her anger breaking into a determined sadness. From where she sat on his bed she gestured for him. He took a tentative step towards her. "We need to talk about this," she said as she reached for his hand. He didn't reply, just rubbed his thumb over hers.

"What if I don't want this anymore? Are we stuck?" she asked and he swallowed, his jaw clenching. He closed his eyes with a focused exhale, the let go of her hand. Her question made sense in light of everything, but it cut deeply, nonetheless. _She'd be a fool to stay, knowing the demons you keep._ The thought taunted him.

"Nothing has changed Alex. It has been this way since the beginning."

"Except now I know about it!"

"Then take it back," he kept his voice plain, detached.

"How? How do I do that?"

"I honestly don't know."

Alex looked away, staring into the blobbed patterning of the wallpaper. "And what if I get my Door?"

"Then... you get your Door."

"And if before then, some power-crazed vampire comes after me? If Richard -"

He grasped her shoulders, halting her words as he leveled her with a hard stare. "I won't allow Richard - or _anyone_ \- to hurt you. I won't allow it." He was vehement and hoped she believed him. "You are already stronger than you realise. You can stop anyone who would threaten you. Even me."

She met his eyes, hers strained with a harrowed realisation. "And _there_ it is. You really can hurt me. And you _knew_. This entire time you knew."

"Alex, no," he shook his head. "This hasn't -"

"Save it," she swallowed. When he started again an attempt to explain, her eyes clenched shut, then she abruptly disappeared, right out of his reach.

He stood there, facing the empty space that she had left behind. He stood there, held fast as a terrible numbness seeped in; that familiar calm before the storm. She didn't know that it was so much worse than that. She couldn't know. He stood there numbly still as he heard Allison's car pull up and park.

Their housemates' steps, hurried and hushed up the walk, finally unrooted him. He couldn't possibly deal with anything else. The lightning-flash desire to drown out every shred of emotion hit him savagely hard. _To wash it all away in a thick haze of red._ But he would not. He _could not_.

Hal turned and shut his door.

* * *

Tom pulled away from snogging Allison, their hands under each other's disarrayed clothing. They both looked sheepishly startled when Alex cleared her throat from the bar. Allison snatched her glasses back from Tom and tugged down her shirt, a smile still playing at her lips. Tom however, cocked his head at Alex and narrowed his eyes. There was a static charge to the air, palpable, and it was coming from Alex.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Tom sniffed, as if he could detect the answer already. "Where's Hal?"

"Hetty happened. Hal's what's wrong. He's upstairs," she answered each of Tom's questions in turn and his eyes widened.

"Oh no. He didn't drink - " Tom started but Alex shook her head.

"Poisoned. Hetty seemed to think it was funny," Alex said, whisking a bottle of liquor from the shelf overhead.

"Hetty poisoned him? Wait, back up," Allison said, righting her spectacles.

"We were at Richard's house and didn't know she would be there," Alex shrugged, as if that explained it. "He's fine now, but we've got a problem."

"Not something else?" Tom almost whined.

"He won't be staying that way if I don't get out of here. I'll catch you later."

Alex disappeared, leaving the disarrayed werewolves to their bewilderment.

* * *

Hal threw open the window, breathing deeply the rush of cold, fresh air. There was a hint of a neighbor on the breeze however, so he shut it. Then drew the blinds for good measure. _Press-ups? No. Situps? No, already done._

Hal paced, his unease apparent. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he knew he couldn't appease it with anything - _or anyone_ \- in this house. He ran his hands through his hair, then picked up his box of dominoes from the side table. In one reckless burst of impulsive energy, he threw the box to crash against the mantle, pieces spraying in a terrible clatter of white onto the floor.

Hal dropped to his knees, at once sickened and _elated_ with the flash of tantrum. He started picking up the pieces, ordering them in a line from beginning to end, flat on the carpet.

He didn't answer when Tom knocked. He didn't answer as his friend stood there for several moments, obviously debating whether to come in or not.

End to end, piece to piece, moment to moment. He could see it all - the span and spiral of history and all the points of intersection. This was why he tried to keep from thinking too much. This was why he _tried_ to keep his emotions at bay.

As Tom shuffled away, Hal exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He remained kneeling on the floor and with a deep breath, he picked up the first domino. After aligning all of the steadying pieces of ivory, start to finish and back again, he began to put them away. Each was stacked carefully back into order in the now-chipped box. He would repair it. He recalled seeing a bottle of wood glue downstairs. A cup of tea, and then his regime. He would not leave. _He would not_.

An electric ping rang false and bright from the mantle, causing Hal's attention to whip to where Alex's mobile still sat. He stood, setting the box down next to the illuminated device. A framed bubble of text had appeared, centered on the screen.

_Good news. Well placed words travel fast. London now rumours the fight has relocated._

_\- DR_

The screen darkened and the message disappeared. Hal left it where it lay, took another steadying breath, then stepped forward to open his door. The corridor was empty and he could hear the shower running, which was a relief. Maybe he could brew his desired tea without interruption.

Downstairs, the lights were all on. One by one, he turned them each off. The darkness felt more comfortable to his recovering senses. He readied water for tea and stood in the kitchen, staring at nothing through the dimly ambient light. A small creak of flooring, a slight brush of fabric alerted him to Tom's watching presence from the doorway. Over time, his friend had softened his boorish ways. He had come to learn how to quiet his approach in the house.

"You alright mate? Alex told us what happened." Tom asked from the door and Hal just shook his head, turning to face his friend.

"I'll be fine Tom," he answered wearily, then glanced at his watch. He really did not wish to have to explain any of the evening's events just yet. He was still working through the implications himself. "What are you doing up?" he tried.

"My best mate was poisoned, then apparently got in a fight with his girl. I'm worried 'bout you."

"Vampire. All better," Hal answered sarcastically.

"You're not though. What's on with you and Alex?"

"She…" Hal started, but his voice died in his throat. _She hated him_. Which was precisely appropriate. The slow build of the kettle trilled a hint of a whistle and he turned it off.

"You can talk to me Hal. Really," Tom prodded softly.

"Christ, I don't even know where to start." He sighed a deep breath, then poured the hot water into a teapot.

"Why's she so upset? She wouldn't say, then she took the gin and disappeared. And not being able to drink and all..."

"She found out something that I'd rather she did not," Hal admitted. Maybe he should just talk with Tom. His friend could be in danger because of this too. Better to tell him now rather than too late.

"About your past?"

"There's that. And, there's something else. Hetty attacked me to get to her."

Tom's brow creased and he tilted his head questionably. "But… Hetty can't hurt her… right?"

"This bond between us…" Hal started, then took a deep breath. "I'm afraid it puts Alex in jeopardy."

"How so?"

Hal didn't answer at first, but brought the teapot and two mugs to the table. He took a seat. Tom grabbed a packet of crisps and sat down across from him. The foil crinkled loudly, breaking the quiet and Tom popped a crisp in his mouth, waiting for Hal to answer. Hal poured them both a cup of tea, sliding one across the table to Tom.

"You knew more about it than you let on, yeah?" Tom prodded.

"Somewhat. This hasn't ever happened with an Old One."

"Why not?" Tom crunched another crisp, casually.

"A Hangori is rarely ever formed at all. There were only a few each century, that I knew of," Hal said, then sipped his tea before looking up. Tom's expression was open, patient. He knew he could trust Tom, and there was no longer really a point to keeping it from him. "It is the secret of the Old Ones, blood-oath sworn to never speak of. It was Snow's power, his way to forge undying loyalty."

"By making Hangori?" Tom queried, honestly curious.

"By cultivating them." Hal made the statement, then sighed. "Draining a Hangori is how the Old Ones are made. Along with the Hangori's host, and the blood of the Eldest."

"Oh." Tom was dumbstruck. He sat silent, mouth agape while he thought through the implications. "So vampires will come after Alex. And you."

"Vampires don't know. It has truly been kept a secret. One that nearly died out along with Snow."

"But you knew. And… that Hetty knows, don't she?"

"Unfortunately so does Richard. I never told him directly, however I gave enough hints. He knows that he needs a Hangori at least."

"Crikey. I bet Alex is right hacked with you. No wonder she split with the gin."

"You could say that, yes." Hal closed his eyes, feeling the far-off tug of her. Not only had she rent-a-ghosted out of the house, but she was no longer even in Barry.

"Why didn't you tell her?" Tom asked.

"I thought I could protect her. The less anyone knew of it, the better. But then Richard, he knew straight away what she was."

"Eh, good thing Rook's got him then, yeah?"

"And I doubt he told Hetty where we are. Richard would have wanted to keep it to himself until the most profitable moment. I wouldn't give her long before she figures it out though."

Tom looked thoughtfully into his cup before taking a drink. "So, Hetty's old yeah?" He asked after finishing all of his tea. "How well did'ya know her?"

"We were akin to… flatmates once," Hal shrugged.

"Flatmates? How's that?" Tom cocked his head, questioning.

"You may have noticed that she is at a certain disadvantage."

"Er, yeah," Tom looked uncomfortable with the thought.

"Snow charged me with her. And then she burned down my house."

"Gah! And you didn't kill her?" Tom asked, sitting up straighter in his seat. "Not that I'm condoning such activity and all."

"Couldn't. I wouldn't have dared at the time."

"What? Why not? It's not like you couldn't take her."

"I'd have been killed for it in turn," Hal shrugged. "Snow was quite particular."

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you join up with him?"

Hal furrowed his brow at the unexpected question. "Ambition. Power. There were several reasons. The fine print of what I was getting into wasn't immediately apparent."

"You can't take it back none?"

"No," Hal shook his head. The very act of becoming an Old One crossed a line, as Alex had so astutely surmised. "At that point I had already determined my soul was tarnished beyond salvation. None of it mattered anymore."

"Would you again? Knowing what you know now?" Tom seemed merely curious, but the question was one that had plagued Hal for the past fifty five years. Leo had asked him a very similar question, once.

"Damned is damned, Tom."

Tom leaned his head into his hand and regarded him with a thoughtful expression, but he didn't say or ask anything further. Hal finished his tea, then set the cup down.

"In better news it appears part of our trip to London has proven effective. We will hopefully not see as many vampires turn up here," he stated.

"But the werewolves can't know that," Tom shook his head.

"No, they must not. It seems they would want to take the fight to the vampires if vampires won't come to them."

"So we need to act as if their war is still coming. At least until Mr. Rook finds whoever's behind it and all."

"How is that going by the way?" Hal asked with a raised eyebrow.

At the question, Tom turned sheepish. "Er, well… fine I s'pose. But most of 'em, they haven't ever even met a vampire before..."

"Have you been able to gather any further as to why they have come?"

"Some want revenge, those who _have_ met vampires. But most it seems were just curious to meet up with others like 'emselves…"

Hal tilted his head and regarded Tom, sensing his friend was suspiciously working up to something unpleasant. "There's something else though."

Tom scratched his head then ran his hand down over his scars. "Yeah, well. You see… I somewhat-of told Milo that you were helping."

"With the vampires?" Hal narrowed his eyes.

"No, not like that. Well, almost. But I covered it up by saying you were going to come help train folk."

Hal's narrowed eyes winced closed, then he sighed. Tom quickly tried to elaborate, taking on a more rehearsed tone. "You was one of the wise men. I look up to ya and that."

"I was what?" he snapped his eyes back open.

"When Annie thought she had the Saviour, well I told her it wasn't likely. Not like three wise men following a star would come round. But then you did."

"You think I'm wise," Hal huffed.

"Well yeah, sure," he shrugged, as if it were a given thing.

"I don't know about that, Tom."

"Naw you're brilliant. You're just too reserved all o'the time to let yourself be. I bet you that you got to be an Old One because you wanted it. You're dead clever."

Hal shook his head with the start of exasperation. "What is your point Tom?"

"How do you think that Rook is going to keep two dozen werewolves quiet?"

"Well, there is one obvious way," Hal answered. He tapped his fingertips against the ceramic mug lightly, then met Tom's eyes.

"Exactly. But is there another?"

"There is always another way."

"See? Dead brilliant," Tom confirmed. "You said you wanted to help. That you owed it to werewolves. So, here's a way you can help. Come talk with them. Then, you can help convince Rook not to kill them. They're good people Hal."

"I'm certain they are. I'm also certain they won't wish to hear from me."

"Naw. You're on our side. It's time they know it."

* * *

Plans had changed.

The message was clear, even though it was already buried deep in the online chat forum that disguised their clandestine communications.

Plans had changed, but plans _weren't_ to change. They were to proceed at the Pleasure Park per instructed, despite the rumours rippling through the London vampire community.

Suitable expendable personnel would be provided, enough to keep the ruse.

He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket and checked his watch. His contact was due to meet him any moment for their last face to face until game day.

He wouldn't be able to break away again.

In the woods, he paced.


	27. How to Train a Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._   
> _Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Apologies for the wait on this one. There was a pleasantly distracting Being Human meetup back there._  
>  _And somehow, this grew to be quite long, despite Hal's grumpiness over his involvement..._
> 
> _Your reviews, comments and notes make my day, every time._
> 
> * * *

The morning broke misted and quiet over the Botanical Gardens as Alex circled back towards the fenced-off old railway station. There were fine droplets of dew in the grass that her boots didn't disturb, and birds were singing loudly, straight through her solitude. She ghosted herself to the other side of the fence and dropped onto the worn dirt path she had walked, laughing and joking throughout her youth. Graffiti sprayed colour peeked from behind the brambles as she descended into the shadows.

The climb wasn't necessary. She could have ghosted straight down. But the physicality of it felt good. It was a small distraction from the pull of him. Even from Glasgow, she could still feel the thread between them. Maybe Hal was lodged in her as much as she had left a piece of herself in him. His presence in the world was a guiding and persistent ache. Maybe if she went far enough, it would break. Or maybe it would never matter how far she roamed.

Alex dropped onto the old concrete of the railway platform, boots thumped and broken glass plinked and echoed. The previous night's fire smouldered, pale wisps of smoke rising up into the grey light. Hal's bottle of fancy gin sat empty and forlorn next to it.

When she appeared here last night, she'd had the vague plan of smashing it. Or seeing if it would light on fire. But it had been a Friday night, which meant she didn't have the place to herself. The misfits of Glasgow had gathered with a raging bonfire, and the ambience fit her mood better than anything. She wished she could drink away her cares with them. Instead, she had left the nearly full bottle where it would be found. She thought about tasting along with them, and wondered if she would feel drunk, but didn't. It just seemed too ghostly-creepy… and she had wanted to get away from all that.

She listened to their stories, she laughed at their jokes. She missed her own friends painfully. But somehow, not being seen by strangers was better than not being seen by people who used to know her well. She felt comforted by being on the outskirts of the group last night. But as the fire died down and few by few, the party trickled out, her confusion and heartache had returned.

Alex levitated the empty bottle and whisked it to land in her hand. The stopper had been lost, and the scent, herbal and sharp, washed a memory over her; of gin and strawberries… and curiosity and lust. God, how she had wanted him. With a sigh, she tucked the bottle into her jacket. For some silly reason, she didn't want to let it go. Just as she knew she couldn't let it go with Hal.

She would go back. She would help Tom and Allison with the werewolf situation, if she could. And Hal… well, she didn't know. She had fallen in love with him, but now? Could she still be? She needed to go back, but she also needed time to process what their bond truly meant - vampiric ambition and all. It was something they both would have to face, eventually. Either they would find a way to fix this, or she would have no choice but to leave for good.

She took one last look around the old abandoned railway station with its graffiti and overgrown tangles - this place that used to feel of home. Then, with a sideways pull of thought, she teleported back to the quiet kitchen of Honolulu Heights.

Soft light streamed in through the stained glass window over the sink, where she noticed there were dirty dishes. Tom must have left for work, but Hal hadn't yet come down to wash up after him. She could sense him upstairs.

Alex left the kitchen and stepped into the living room to see Allison reading at the dining table, a teapot steaming pleasantly next to her laptop. Her news clipping project still spanned the mural across from where she sat. She glanced up from her reading, slightly started.

"Alex! You're back. Are you okay?"

Alex put on a smile, "Already dead. I'm fine."

"The way you just left… well, I was worried."

Alex pulled the empty gin bottle free or her jacket and set it on the table before she took a seat. "Let's just say I needed some non-supernatural company last night. I'll be alright. Has Hal not come down?"

Allison shook her head, "I haven't seen hide nor hair of Hal this morning. Tom stayed up half the night with him, but I don't know what they spoke of. You should go talk to him. My Mum always says that it's never wise to let a fight brew overnight."

"This isn't exactly a fight, I don't think. I mean, it isn't anything that anyone can change. It just is."

"Things are hardly ever that simple. And when they are it's usually because _someone_ didn't do enough research."

At that, Alex laughed, knowing Allison probably meant debating. "I doubt that in this case. But yea, you're right. I need to talk to him," Alex admitted, then glanced to the red-stringed news clippings. "Are you doing alright?"

Allison shrugged, "Vinnie still hasn't written back so I fear we scared him off. Or else he is hunting me down as we speak. I _did_ admit to being a werewolf, after all. Time will tell," she smiled mischievously. "Last night was quite fun and productive though. Er, before you ran into us here, I mean."

"How so?"

Allison perked up, her excitement evident. "Tom took the Pack out to the woods for trail running. It was incredible! We could sense each other as we ran. Everything became heightened - even more so than the usual. It was rather thrilling."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Cool."

"Where did you go?" Allison asked, giving a nod to the empty bottle of gin.

"Oh, just an old haunt of mine in Glasgow," Alex said, then tapped the glass with her finger. "I think I contributed to some underage drinking."

"Heh, old haunt," Allison winked and Alex winced at the pun. Changing to a supportive tone, Allison raised an eyebrow and offered, "we're going out again tonight, if you want to come?"

"Yeah, maybe. Thanks," Alex said, then stood. "I'm gonna -"

"Go kiss and makeup?" Allison teased, but at the way Alex's face fell she turned to serious. "I'll be here, if you want for company."

Alex nodded, thankful, but then continued on her way to the stairs. As she climbed, she took a deep breath. She had run through it all this morning, but still didn't quite know what to say. At Hal's landing, she paused. She could hear the soft uttering of his counting, and the slight creak of the floorboards as he moved. She raised her hand and knocked. The sound stopped, and she suddenly felt sheepish and strange. She never knocked.

Hal opened the door, shirtless and flushed, a slight sheen of perspiration on his skin. He had been at his regime for some time, she realised. He was standing with his hand on the edge of the door, blocking her entry.

"Can I come in?" she asked. For a brief pause, he remained frozen. But then he opened the door wide and turned his back on her, retreating into the room. Alex followed as he reached for a towel. At the sight of him, with the morning light accentuating the lines of his torso, she nearly lost her resolve. She stopped next to the mantle, watching as he dried off then shrugged into a shirt. He turned to face her and stilled, dropping his hands to his sides.

When she realised he wasn't going to speak, she took a deep breath. "I know things about you I can't forgive," she started.

He held her gaze, neither rebutting nor was only the barest tremble as he blinked that gave away any hint of emotion. But he still held her gaze, seemingly in agreement and allowing her to continue.

"The implications of this… thing between us, and what might happen because of it? Finding out you knew, and your involvement… It was just one thing too many about your past."

Hal's mouth hardened, but still, he did not refute her.

"And yet," she paused, biting her lip as she took a step towards him. "I see how terribly hard you try - _every_ day - to be a better person. I see how difficult all these years of doing so must have been. And... I respect you for it. Every single day is one more bested, and I couldn't help but fall in love with you."

Hal's eyes narrowed and his lips parted slightly, as if to deny her, and she knew she wouldn't be able to continue if he spoke. She stepped close and pressed one finger to his lips, surprise flashing briefly in his eyes as she held his silence. "What I feel for you," she shook her head. "It terrifies me," she whispered, then retracted her finger. "Maggie said our emotions aren't tied to the bond. So what I feel, even knowing what I do, is on me. I'm going to need some time."

Hal broke their gaze to look down at her hand. She had started worrying at the ring on her forefinger, but stopped. He continued his silence for a long moment.

"Time is game played beautifully by children," he uttered, his tone inflicting a quote she wasn't familiar with, then met her eyes once more. "We have all the time you could want, yet I haven't asked anything of you."

"No, not directly," she inclined her head then brushed the fringe from her eyes. "I almost didn't come back," she admitted softly.

"I know," he answered candidly. "There is a part of me that believes you shouldn't have."

"And the other part?"

"The other," he closed his eyes. When they opened, it was with an edge of darkness. "I want to obliterate anyone who could harm you," he said plainly, despite the edge in his eyes.

"The only ones who know are Richard and Hetty, right?" Alex asked, evading his darkness, and Hal nodded. "Why did you start working with Richard in the first place?"

Hal shrugged and sank onto the sofa. "He wasn't always as he is now. He was a forerunner. A history maker."

Alex cocked an eyebrow and leaned her hip against the sofa arm opposite him. She huffed, "by investing in real estate?"

"Richard was the first of us to publically live a double life. He was a politician before he was turned, and had gotten quite far. He refused to relinquish that side of his human life. So, he didn't. He ran for Parliament. He was very nearly found out, however. Snow never forgave him for the indiscretion."

"And that's why you went into business with him?"

"I was curious about him. At the time we met, he was somewhat of a celebrity. He had made a name for himself as a specialist investor, despite the exile the fiasco had forced upon him. When he returned to Britain, seeking an alliance, I was the only Old One to entertain him, at first. Richard…" Hal sighed. "He has been a friend, at times."

"Richard… and Hetty, they're the only ones your age now, aren't they?" she asked, discerning something as she spoke. "The only ones still out there, with all that shared history between you. If it came down to it; could you really just take them out?"

"I generally try to solve my problems through means other than murder these days Alex. But yes, the thought has crossed my mind. And," he paused. "Yes, I could," he admitted with a soft tilt of his head.

Alex swallowed, staring into his eyes. Hal was many things, and always would be, and she had known for some time that he truly cared for her. The revelation now was that this complicated, _terrifying_ person really could love her, despite the dark trails of his past. Despite the complications between them. When he spoke the words in anger, it had come as a shock because she hadn't thought he could. But if she truly believed that, then how had her heart fallen for him in the first place? Her heart, her very _spirit,_ had recognised something in him. Something challenging and deep and impossible to ignore.

"Tom has asked for my assistance this evening," Hal changed the topic, sensing her discomfort and breaking the silence stretching between them.

Alex cleared her throat while she attempted to clear her mind of the implication of his earlier statement. "With the werewolves?" Hal nodded the affirmative. "And you said yes?"

"I do not doubt that Tom is capable of teaching what they need to know, but still, I agreed. He hasn't yet garnered Milo's trust. Perhaps I can."

* * *

Rain was threatening to turn from a fine mist into a true drizzle on their way to the clearing. A long line of autos parked haphazardly along the edge of the road lead to their trailhead. Someone had erected a couple of tarps as a temporary shelter, and campfire and smoked meat drifted on the breeze in spite of the drizzle. Allison turned off the ignition and set the brake as Alex teleported to appear in the grass.

Hal hardened his lips into a line, surveying the scene as he stepped out of the car. "There are more that I thought."

Tom closed the car door and came around to clap him on the back, "I know. They're all good folk though. You'll be fine."

Tom looked towards the shelter and spotted Irving. He was talking with a young girl with dark hair tucked tucked under a woolen hat. She glanced their way as Irving gave Tom a nod, and her scowl brightened to a sudden smile. She put down the mug she had been holding and headed over towards them, Irving following her, befuddled. Hal's face shifted to concern at her approach. "Christa, you shouldn't be here."

"Well hello to you too," she answered.

"You know each other?" Tom asked in surprise.

"We met on Grimsay," Alex interjected. "She's friends with Adam & Yvonne."

"I couldn't very well stay there with all this going on. I wanted to see for myself," Christa shrugged then glanced to Irving, looping him into their conversation.

"Boredom is no reason to get involved with this. You should go home," Hal rationalized.

"To the lovebirds? Trust me, you have no idea," Christa deadpanned right back.

Tom exchanged a quick look with Hal, then broke into a short laugh. He extended his hand, "I'm Tom. It's nice to meet ya Christa."

"What be you doing?" Irving commanded the question to Tom in his heavy Irish accent, even though he was pointedly staring at Hal. Tom looked between them as he noticed Conal was approaching as well. "He can't be here."

Hal's posture straightened, bristling with Irving's comment, but before he could retort, Allison tutted. "Painting a whole species with the same brush are we?"

"So you're him. Tom's vampire friend," Conal acknowledged as he joined their group, skipping any introduction. "What do you want?"

Hal's eyes had darkened with Conal's gruffness. "I wish to help."

"The hell you do."

"People are going to die because of this," Hal answered Conal darkly. "I'd rather it were those who are more deserving."

Conal regarded Hal and neither of them budged. They seemed to be assessing each other in equal measure. Tom noted that for once, his friend wasn't coiled and tense as he normally was around strangers. Hal held himself with a loose detachment, calm. Somehow, it was even more threatening; as if he didn't care that Conal was questioning his motives.

Begley came running up, face alight at having spotted Tom, but Irving caught his brother, holding him back. Still, the boy broke the tension. "You're a vampire!" he shouted out loud as he realised, sensing the same thing any werewolf would sense.

"Begley!" Irving chided, keeping hold of his brother's hand even though he obviously wanted to step closer.

"Unfortunately, yes," Hal answered, dropping his gaze from Conal to address the boy. The voices from the shelter had died down. Eyes and ears were all on their little group.

Begley looked to Alex who was standing a little apart, and asked "You too?" But she just shook her head with a slight smile.

A single, clapping applause silenced any answer Alex may have given as Milo stepped free of the pack and came into the clearing. He was even more burly than she remembered. He strode towards them, his jacket doing little to hide his muscular bulk.

"Hal Yorke. I really didn't think that you'd come. I've heard some fascinating things about you," Milo taunted.

Hal didn't take the bait, just waited patiently without saying anything. Milo assessed him, then continued, "How exactly do you think you're going to help?"

"I'm merely Tom's assistant," Hal answered simply, as if this was a discussed and given thing. Alex glanced to Tom, who thankfully had kept his face impassive. "When teaching a large group it is beneficial to have a partner for demonstration. Right Tom?"

"Er, yeah," Tom shrugged.

"My, this _will_ be interesting. Well, you certainly have our attention."

Hal glanced at Tom and tilted his head with a half smile. "Shall we?"

"What? Fight?" Tom asked, a hint of his surprise peeking through.

"It is why you brought me here, correct?" Hal said, loud enough to carry, then strode forward into the clearing, towards the group of werewolves under the shelter. Some of the people watching froze, eyes darting nervously. Hal stopped, halfway into the clearing and evenly spaced between Tom, Milo and the watching werewolves, and held up his arms.

"Yes, I am a vampire," he stated loud enough for all to hear. "However, I'm not here to bring anyone harm. I am Tom's friend, and he can attest that I abstain from the excesses of my kind. For better or worse, I am on your side in this. Tom?" Hal turned to face Tom, then dropped his stance, ready for an attack. Tom recovered from his surprise quickly. His grin was infectious as he joined Hal in the clearing. Out of the sleeve of his jacket, Tom dropped a stake into his hand and gripped it tightly in preparation. Hal's eyes smouldered into a dark smile, then he charged.

They fought like dance, like beautifully executed choreography. Seemingly anticipating every move of their opponent, Tom and Hal matched each other perfectly. They sparred in blurred speed - vampire against werewolf. Dark and light. Fierce and feral. Tom with practiced muscle memory, Hal with ruthless experience like breath. The gathered group watched every move, captivated.

It continued for several moments, a blur of movement; attack and counter, dodge and duck - until Hal caught Tom's stake. He had halted it mere inches from his chest. Tom grinned again - he was good at this and Hal was actually out of practise. Tom was in his element, and the smile tugging at the edge of Hal's mouth hinted that he had enjoyed their sparring as well. They appeared at ease with one another; comfortable in their friendship, which seemed to dampen the apprehension of those watching.

Hal took a step back, then pressed his palms together in truce. Catching their breaths and coming into stillness, Tom lowered his stake as Hal faced their audience. Something in his posture shifted, and something shifted in the air. Even the very birds in the woods seemed to grow still as silence spanned across the field. Hal's stance was usually perfect, but this was _commanding_. He had gained everyone's attention and culled a tenuous truce, all without uttering a word.

Hal broke the silence with one tap to his chest. "As Tom has just demonstrated, this is the most direct path to a vampire's heart," he said unequivocally. "But for those not as well practised as Tom, it is far from the easiest." Hal paused, and glanced towards Tom before continuing. "Bone and cartilage will block the way except for the strongest combatant," Hal shifted his stance. "The best approach is here, under the ribcage, with a longer stake." He motioned towards his stomach with an upwards thrust. "More difficult to keep concealed, but easier to wield. Today, Tom and I are evenly matched. But that will change before the full moon, as I'm certain you know. Additional strength does not guarantee your fight, however."

"I am certain Tom has told you that a vampire can only be killed in a finite number of ways. The body must be injured beyond it's ability to heal. Beheadings used to be handy, but they are annoyingly difficult to achieve without a guillotine. We cannot all be Highlander."

Hal's out of date cultural reference garnered a few chuckles. Christa, grinning, met Alex's eyes, but Alex couldn't hide her discomfort. Hal telling this group exactly all the ways in which he could be killed was unnerving, regardless of how she felt about him.

He folded his hands behind his back and continued. "The classic stake through the heart is the simplest method, of course, but it _has_ to be wood. A blade will only make for an angry vampire. Another way is to destroy the organ altogether - such as with a bomb, for instance. Or, if you can manage it, forcing an ingestion of your blood. There is very little advance aside from these that will do anything but aggravate your foe. An attack to the head or throat will only enrage, even with a dousing of werewolf blood. It will burn, but not long enough. Hitting the eyes will cause temporary blindness, but will only grant," he paused and looked to Tom. "What would you say Tom?"

"Er, a few seconds or so I s'pose. But the vampire will still come after ya even if he can't see, so that don't really work."

"Precisely. In what ways would you suggest disabling a vampire?"

"Eh, well the wrist won't work for long, but further up on the arms will."

"Generally the larger the bone, the more time it takes for my kind to heal. What else?"

"Eh, a kneecap will buy you a good chunk of time, or severing a major tendon like the achilles. Really, it's best to try and slow him down, so you can get in close enough with a stake."

Hal nodded, "Which is precisely how we will practise today." Pointing towards the end of the group, he ordered, "Everyone will please count off. One," he indicated, then pointed to the next, "Two, three, four."

One by one, each individual spoke their number following Hal's lead. When they reached thirty-seven, Hal gave an apologetic smile. "My condolences to those with even numbers. You are now vampires. Please, do your worst to capture your neighbor. You have have three minutes, then we will switch. Go."

There was a brief pause, as each pair identified each other. Then, with the first mock battle-cry, chaos erupted into shouts and laughter as the group dispersed into the game.

Irving still looked dubious, glancing between Hal and the quickly sparring teams, until Begley broke free and charged the nearest person to him aside from his brother. Allison laughed then took off running. Irving looked as if he would protest, but Christa poked him in the arm.

"Run little wolf," she teased. Irving's dicey expression changed to a grin.

"Well Tom?" Conal asked, then readied his stance. Tom laughed then charged. Conal dodged then turned back. Tom quickly sidestepped, countered and shortly they were a few feet away.

Hal stood apart from it all, watching the field, glancing over everyone to ensure they all had found a partner. Alex came to stand next to him.

"You're good at this," she said and Hal didn't respond, merely kept his eyes scanning the field of practising pairs. "You really were a commander once, eh?"

Hal nodded solemnly, but still kept his attention on the field. After a pause, watching Tom practising with Conal, she wondered aloud, "What is it about Tom?"

"In what way do you mean?" Hal answered without looking at her.

"So it's odd, right? For a vampire and a werewolf to be friends?"

"You sound surprised," Hal stated flatly before answering her. "He's… sincere. Honest. And brave to a fault. And a friend, despite our differences."

"But you were friends with Leo, too. You just have a thing for werewolves or what?"

Hal glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow. "There was an obvious reason, in the beginning."

"Obvious?"

"The best place to hide is where your pursuit would not think to look," he said then shifted his gaze back to the field.

"Ah."

"As time passed however, the stronger I became at resisting, the more I relied on Leo's humanity to guide me back to my own. It is the only way to do this that really works; to surround yourself with good people. I have failed myself time and time again. But to fail Leo? To fail Tom?"

Alex considered that for a moment, watching Hal observe the field, then glanced back towards Tom. "You really do care for him, don't you?"

"He's a remarkable person, and the strongest werewolf I've ever met," Hal answered simply. She was struck by Tom's obvious grin, even from afar, and she still knew Hal meant Tom's character, and not his apparent skillset in a fight.

"Before Leo, I always thought that I could do this alone. That I _needed_ to be alone. I was mistaken. I need those who would hold me accountable if I were to fail."

"You need Tom to hold you accountable? Can he really do that?"

"He already has. And so have you." Hal's hazel eyes met hers and she looked away quickly. He had such a consistent way to cut through to exactly what she was circling, even before she recognised it herself.

She fell silent, watching over the field of sparring bodies. Some pairs were serious, but some were giggling, such as Allison and Begley. She was gleefully leading the boy on quite the chase at the edge of the woods. Irving and Christa seemed to be having a good go of it as well. They had switched to Irving playing the vampire with hands raised and mock hissing.

Hal interrupted her observations, "You need to learn this too, you know."

"Wait, what?" Alex snapped her attention back to Hal. He tilted his head with a sly smile, then shifted his stance.

"Uh-uh. No way. I'm not going to fight you," she shook her head.

"I'm the only one here you can practise on safely," he reasoned.

"Hal, seriously?"

"Quite," he answered.

She shook her head. "I don't think so," and folded her arms across her chest.

"Prove that you can stop me. I challenge you," he added.

She huffed, suddenly very much uncomfortable. "Why?"

"If you can stop me, then you can stop anyone."

"I already know I can stop you."

"Are you certain?" he taunted, taking a threatening step towards her.

"Hal…"

"Prove it to me," he asked, softening. "Please."

She swallowed and bit her lip as he held her gaze. She wanted to look away, but there was something unusually pleading in his expression. _Please._

She dropped her arms with a tortured sigh, but adopted a semblance of a defensive stance.

Instantly, Hal took the offensive and made a move for her arm. Alex wrenched away and started to back up, but he followed. She teleported, reappearing a good twenty feet afield, at the treeline. He grinned and came after her. When he got closer, she teleported again. He let her lead him in and out of the trees for a moment, but then he stopped.

"Alex, no holding back," he circled her, his body language coiled, ready to strike. "We do not have time for being delicate."

"I know," she whispered, but kept just out of reach. Teleporting to evade him was easier than _actually_ fighting him. She was conflicted with how they stood with one another, but she still couldn't bring herself to raise power against him.

"You wanted to yesterday. Use it. Channel it," he paced opposite her. When she still hesitated, he gave an exasperated sigh and closed his eyes. He opened them to a dropped blackness, then suddenly charged her.

"Argh!" Defensively, instinctually, she blocked him with a wave of force, sending him to fly backwards and fall, skidding against the trunk of a tree.

She gasped, alarmed that she could have hurt him, but he grinned slyly as he sat up. Hal shook his head and cleared his eyes, then commanded, "Again."

"What? Jesus," she protested. He stood, brushed himself off then made to repeat his ambush of her. Again, she blocked him. Using less force than before, she was able to keep him a bay without actually toppling him. They parried a few more times then he stopped, rotating his shoulders and stretching his neck. Believing that was the end, she relaxed and glanced towards the field again.

Hal's hand around her throat was a shock. His eyes bore into hers as she struggled, but he didn't let go. She pushed against his wrist, stomped on his foot then pushed at his chest - all to no avail.

"Break it Alex. Stop me." Hal's fangs lowered before her eyes. Again, without thinking, a wave of electric charge pulsed from her. Hal dropped her as if she were afire. He shook himself clear, then smiled. "That's more like it."

Then he rushed her again, trying another angle this time. And again, she blocked him. Every time his wry amusement seemed to grow. As if he was happy to find he couldn't capture her; thrilled that they were so evenly matched. His amusement was infectious.

Soon, Alex was more confident in her ability to stop him and she played at it, toying at the game before she propelled him away. It was _fun_. And Hal was smiling. And it lit up her heart. The underlying tension between them was melting away.

"May I have this dance?"

Alex dropped her smile and turned around to where Milo was leaning, arms crossed against a nearby tree. "Me?" she chuffed. Mock-fighting with Hal was one thing, but she had no desire to engage with the brutish, large werewolf.

"Pleasurable as that may be, some other time. Him." Milo scanned Hal, whose demeanour did not change. Hal's stance was still loose, casual, with his hands at his sides.

"Hal, you don't -" Alex started but he raised a hand to halt her.

"No, it's fine," he said, keeping Milo's gaze, whose scarred face cracked into a grin as he stepped clear of the treeline.

The oncoming rain pattered against the thick leather of his jacket as Milo grounded his stance. Alex looked across the clearing at the sparring figures. She did not catch sight of Tom or Allison.

Milo was poised, assessing Hal. The split second he moved to charge, Hal moved to deflect him. Hal's quick block of Milo's reach was so instantaneous that Alex didn't even see what had tipped Hal off. Milo rubbed his arm but kept his grin as he paced opposite.

Hal lunged to attack Milo, who narrowly missed the blow, then retaliated with a swiftness. The fight was a blur. Milo had obvious strength and skill, but Hal was fast, anticipating every onslaught.

Alex had watched plenty of fight movies with her brothers - Ryan had gone through a major Bruce Lee kick one summer - but this wasn't anywhere near as polished or crafted. Unlike when Hal demonstrated with Tom, this fight was dirty.

Seeing an opening, Hal caught Milo by the collar and shoved him hard against the nearest tree. The breath _whoomped_ out of the werewolf, his grin falling as he blocked Hal's reach for his throat and tried to seize his arm. Hal was already clear however.

Milo's expression hardened as he charged again. Grapple, dodge, duck; they danced, never quite engaging. Alex glanced across the field again, seeking Tom. She didn't see him, but several of the werewolves had stopped their own sparring and were shifting their attention to the fight. They were drawn to it like a crowd at a pub. For something had noticeably shifted. It was no longer clear that Hal & Milo were merely practising.

_Smack!_ Milo's head whipped back as Hal landed a punch. Hal shook out his hand as Milo shook his head and Alex winced. _That was going to leave a mark…_ Hal knew what he was doing. Milo recovered quickly though and charged Hal again, this time catching him slightly off guard. Milo grabbed his shoulder, fury in his eyes as he attempted to push Hal back towards the treeline. They locked, Hal meeting the onslaught, turning it into a game of strength. They shoved against each other, slipping with the sodden earth. Milo growled and shifted to gain a better purchase. Hal took the opening and gained a hold of Milo's neck, pressing into his windpipe and forcing them away from the woods. Milo's hands went to Hal's, futilely trying to tear him away.

The werewolf's eyes widened, and for a small, panicked moment, Alex thought she would have to intervene to keep Hal from killing him. He couldn't even gasp a breath. Soundlessly choking, the larger man struggled uselessly against Hal's grip; until he retaliated. Milo kneed Hal forcefully in the thigh.

Hal gasped and dropped, his leg giving out from under him as Milo broke away - just as Tom and Allison came rushing out of the woods behind them. Milo, coughed with watery eyes and rubbed his neck as Hal caught his balance, testing his weight on his injured leg.

Backing away, Milo turned to face the gathered crowd. He pointedly cleared his throat. "Observe your opponent. Find his weakness," he declared haughtily to the group, smug to be adding to the lesson.

Seeing something flash on Tom's face as he approached made Alex glance back at Hal - just as he sent a quick, merciless kick to the back of Milo's knee. Milo stumbled forward, knee dropping to the ground as he caught himself with his hands in the mud.

"Never turn your back on an enemy," Hal concluded simply.

Silence enveloped the field as Milo pushed himself up, wiping his hands on his jeans with a scowl. The silence was broken by a loud, "Whoop!" as Christa, grinning, started clapping. Tension breaking, a couple of smiles appeared as Milo glared.

Tom lunged forward, grasping Hal's shoulder in a friendly way, but catching him.

"Thanks," he whispered under a grimace as the group started applauding with Christa. Alex stepped in and took Hal's elbow, and Allison came to stand next to Tom. She had a bit of lichen in her hair.

Milo finished brushing off, then regarded Hal, and each of them at his side in turn. Returning his dark countenance to Hal, he held the vampire's eyes. With a huff, Milo reluctantly extended his hand. Hal left the handshake unanswered for a pause, but then took it. They shook hands, as skeptical allies.

"So, you really are with us then," Milo declared.

Hal's eyes narrowed, but he nodded once. "So it would seem."

Milo held Hal's gaze, appraising and dubious. The rain picked up, pattering down around them in percussive insistence and finally, Milo broke their eye contact. When he turned to walk away, his back was very much facing Hal.

* * *

_"Time is a game played beautifully by children."_  
 _― Heraclitus, Fragments_


	28. Concordance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._   
> _Beta assistance from Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Your reviews, comments and notes inspire much happiness, and quicker updates. Especially when I know exactly what's coming._
> 
> * * *

"Christ," Hal cursed. "I need to bathe."

"Yeah you do," Tom teased, smiling heartily.

Hal shot him a pessimistic scowl before removing his sodden jacket and unlacing muddy boots. "You owe me," he said with mock-irritation. There was warmth in his tone despite the disheveled state of them all. Stiffly, he retreated to the stairway, intent on following through with his declaration of claiming the bath.

Tom just grinned, still high on how well it all had gone. Hal had been fantastic, just as Tom had known he would be. They had finished up, said their farewells, and all come home together. Hal had extended an invitation for Christa to stay with them, but she'd declined with a glance towards Irving. They were going out for a meal after, and she assured that she already had plans to stay with a cousin in Cardiff.

"Why do you two do that all the time? I think you both smell fine," Alex muttered, closing the entry door before following Tom and Allison to the kitchen.

"Eh, mortal enemies and all that. We smell different to each other than to normal folk is all," Tom shrugged. He pulled the milk carton out of the fridge and took a big swig.

Allison thwapped him on the arm as she passed to put the kettle on. "It is biological," she declared, matter-of-factly. "It is perfectly logical that we'd be able to sense each other."

"Does he smell off to you?" Alex asked her, curious.

"Not exactly. I haven't known many vampires, so to me he just smells like Hal. He does smell different from other people however."

"Huh," Alex hitched herself onto the counter.

"He's Hal, but he still smells like a vampire. It's just like our blood," Tom shook his head as he put the milk away. "Our curses don't mix."

"But you're still friends," Alex stated.

"Yeah, so?" Tom noted the seriousness of Alex's expression and shrugged. "No, it ain't natural. Werewolves usually avoid vampires until the moon turns us." Tom's expression became thoughtful. "When we used to hunt them, I'd carry this anger. One whiff of a vampire and I'd be ready. My Dad trained me that way I s'pose. But Hal's not your usual vampire. He's been off the blood long 'nuff it's changed him." Tom leaned against the counter and peered down at his shoes. "Or maybe it's from when I was forced to get to know him and all… Maybe I'm just used to him. He's not so bad now."

"So, it doesn't bother you?" Alex pressed. "Knowing the things he's done?"

Tom's brow furrowed, but he shook his head. "I didn't always see it as that," Tom started, then glanced to Allison. She came to lean next to him, encouraging with a tilt of her head. He continued reluctantly, "I've done some pretty bad stuff myself. At the time, it always seemed in the right, like. There wasn't another choice for me really. Not only has Hal lived longer, but he's had his perspective and choices change a few times over. I s'pose it don't excuse it none, but I guess… I can understand. He really does try."

"Life was drastically different through the centuries too - supernatural or otherwise," Allison added. "Hal has lived through some of the more violent eras of our cultural history. Both World Wars, the Napoleonic Wars, the Civil War, plagues... the Tudors for goodness' sake!" Allison laughed and Alex smiled. "Honestly I wonder sometimes how he can be as functional as he is. You'd think he'd be hidden away somewhere, all secretive and weird."

Alex smirked at that, "He _is_ all secretive and weird."

Tom cocked his head. "Egh, I don't know. I think he's pretty straightforward, don't you?" he asked in a pondering tone. "Yeah, he's been through more than I can wrap my head around. And there's parts of his past I'm sure he'd rather not talk about. But he ain't ever said he's someone he's not. Hal's really been pretty honest 'bout things, all considered."

It seemed Tom was coming to the conclusion as he spoke. Alex realised he had been pondering many of the same things she had, ever since he found out his friend's history with dog fights. It seemed he had been able to come to terms with it. Alex wasn't sure if she had reached that point as well, but she was trying.

"Yea, I guess you're right," she finally said and dropped from her perch on the countertop. Changing the subject, Alex crossed her arms and gave the pair of them a steely eye. Allison still had a smidge of lichen in her air. "You were off snoggin' in the woods, weren't ye?"

Allison and Tom exchanged a quick flash of a guilty look, then Allison laughed. "Only briefly!"

"Hal was looking out for 'em all, so I thought I'd check on Allison…" Tom added sheepishly.

Alex gave a dramatic sigh with a smile. "Aye, young love," she teased wistfully, then glanced to the clock. "Anyone want to watch Top Gear?"

After supernatural training with an entire werewolf army, she was wanting for a spot of normal. Tom's smile returned. Apparently he was too.

They all cosied up on the sofa together - Allison nestled under Tom's arm and Alex sprawled at the opposite end. The ease with which her housemates were with each other - their unconcealed care and affection, made her ache. She was envious. Even if they somehow managed to sort things out between them, Hal would never be so casual.

Far too quickly, the hour was past. Tom had to be up early for work, so they bid her a fond good night and went upstairs together. Alex switched off the tele and stared at her silhouette reflected in the darkened screen. There was no use pretending she wanted to be anywhere else. She stood, and disappeared.

She found Hal ready for bed, wearing only his pants and facing the bookshelf as he stretched. He glanced up at her sudden presence, then switched arms, pulling across his chest.

"Could you send Rook a message?" he asked without any preamble. He had obviously been waiting for her.

"What do you mean?"

"On your mobile. He sent an email yesterday that appeared on the screen."

"Text, Hal. He sent a text," she smirked.

"In an case," Hal continued, "Please tell him that we would like to request a briefing."

Alex picked up the mobile from where it still sat on the mantle and entered the code. The screen came to life. "Eh," she quickly clicked through the multiple messages that were already there. "Guess we neglected to check this… How does 'sixteen hundred' sound? That's four o'clock, right?"

"Good. Tom can join us," he nodded agreeably. She quickly typed a response to Rook, confirming what he had already proposed. Hal stopped stretching, and with a pained sigh, he sank onto the edge of the bed.

With the exception of when he was shot by Nave, Alex had never seen a bruise on Hal's body. The burn on his thigh from Tom's blood had been fading slowly, but the fresh, dark bloom radiating out from where Milo had kneed him was unmistakable.

"You're not healing?" She asked, setting the mobile back down on the mantle.

Hal glanced down, then looked away. "I don't drink blood Alex. It changes things."

"You think that's it?" She recalled Maggie's odd words when they had first met at the hospital. _Who you feeding off of girlie?_

"I've never gone this long before. It was such a small amount... with Cutler," Hal shook his head. "Then London. It makes sense that I'd be at a certain... disadvantage." He stretched his neck and rotated his shoulders again and Alex wondered if he was right. Maybe it had nothing to do with her. "And I may be feeling my age a bit," he added gruffly.

Alex kicked off her boots and padded over to the bed. As she approached, she shrugged out of her jacket and set it aside. Climbing onto the mattress behind him and scooting in cross-legged, she began massaging his shoulders.

Hal immediately tensed. "What are you doing?"

"Relax," she pulled, forcing him to lean back. "Sorry I hit you so hard."

"You were supposed to," he murmured, still fighting her touch.

Alex kneaded a little deeper, working against the tension in his neck and shoulders. "You really don't feel your age you know."

Hal just sighed but she felt him relax slightly into her ministrations. He could command an army, expertly cow an opponent, and take a ghostly beating, but couldn't take a kindness. She rolled her eyes behind his head and dug deeper, feeling him slacken a little more.

As she attempted to soothe and erase the aches she had given, Alex lost herself briefly in feeling their connection. They hadn't touched enough to spark that connection since Thursday morning. Not since he found out about her nightmares. Not since she had searched through his files at the archive. Not since Maggie had placed the block between them. And not since she had broken through it to see if he was alright after Hetty. Alex enjoyed the feel of his skin beneath her hands, the fresh, damp scent of his hair and that sultry smell that was all his own.

Akin to when they were very first sleeping together, she felt as if she was testing the limits of touch. But now, as he begrudgingly allowed her ministrations, she was reminded of all he had said today. He had made it seem such a simple thing to kill a vampire. Even with all of his age and experience, he could be ended in an instant. Alex had a feeling he wouldn't make it simple for anyone who dared to try, but still, the possibility bothered her.

Just when she thought he was softening into her, that she was actually able to calm him, he pulled away. Hal stood, facing the bookshelf, his fingers tapping in quick succession. She dropped her hands into her lap numbly.

After a steadying breath, he turned to tug down the blankets. "I have to go bed Alex."

"So, go to bed," she answered, suddenly feeling the chasm drop between them again.

He glanced at her, swallowed, then looked away. She had made him nervous. Confident and secure when facing a group, but riddled with self-doubt when facing her. She supposed things were still complicated between them. She had asked for time, and here she was blatantly inciting contact between them.

She unfurled her legs and dropped her feet to the floor to stand, about to go, when he reached out to brush her arm. She paused and their eyes met. It all was there, in his softened stare - openness, understanding if she chose to go... and hope that she would stay. Alex sighed a shaky breath, then sat back down. Hal didn't have self-doubt, he was just trying to follow her lead. To give her the space she had asked for, even though she had undoubtedly incited his desire. Gawds, she was an arse.

Blankets neatly folded down, he gingerly sat next to her. Close, but not quite touching. She turned towards him, an apology on her tongue, but caught the small surprise of his face. Surprise that she _wasn't_ leaving. It made something expand in the apex of her stomach. That center core part of her, just under the ribcage where she felt him and their bond, knotted.

She bit her lip, hesitating briefly, but then put her arm over his shoulder. He didn't yield at first and she thought he would pull away again. But then he steadied his breath, and returned the gesture, bridging the gap and pulling her close. She wasn't comforted however. Love and hate and fear and _confusion_ all took over, simultaneously. She clenched and fought against it, but there was no use. The weight of his arm dissolved the chasm between them and her chest hitched. He held her ever so slightly tighter, and it all broke free. She pressed her face into his chest; this barrier of flesh between them hiding some missing part of herself. She wanted to draw him close and push him away with equal measure. She wanted him. She didn't _want_ to want him.

Alex pulled back to see his face, and he stared back at her, his beautiful eyes still holding the same expression as before, despite her tears. She swallowed, pulling it together in front of his unwavering gaze, the tide of it all ebbing.

Slowly, Hal kissed her cheek, his lips pressed over her tears. _Understanding_. He knew, somehow the breadth of her emotions, and knew precisely how to tip the scales between them. He pulled back to look at her and delicately licked his lips, tasting her tears. _Taking_ her tears, and Alex toppled. She couldn't help it.

She couldn't stop it.

She was in love with him.

She had never _stopped_ being in love with him.

She tentatively placed her hand over his heart and held it there, protectively. He met her eyes, acknowledging her silent question but not answering. She pressed her palm flat, feeling that hook of their connection through his skin - her anchor in him. Spreading her fingers wide, palm pressed over his silent and vulnerable heart, she met his eyes and asked, "Can you feel it? The piece of me?"

"I can feel _you_ ," he whispered. "Only you."

She dropped her head to his shoulder, face turned towards the crook his neck and remained there a moment. He breathed into her hair, his breath slowing. Everything she had suppressed and fought against was coming to the surface. She had meant what she said about needing time. But judging by the surge of emotion she felt, maybe it had already been enough. She had to be sure, though. For if they were to continue this, they could both be in danger. She kissed the side of his throat and Hal's breath caught ever so slightly, his fingers light on her arm.

"Alex," he started, a protest forming even though his hand had dropped to her waist.

"I still want you," she shuddered the admission and looked up. His eyes met hers but he didn't say anything. She cupped his cheek, feeling the start of stubble. He only shaved in the mornings; a ritual he had steadfastly not allowed her to be privy to. His eyes were holding hers, searching without speaking. "You love me?" she finally braved, confronting him on the one thing she couldn't bring herself to earlier.

His lips parted, then he closed his eyes. His whisper was hushed, like a guilty confession. "Yes."

"Show me," she whispered back.

He paused, poised as if he almost didn't believe what she had said. His fingertips delicately brushed the side of her face and then, holding her gaze, he leaned in to kiss her. He kissed her, and the floodgates opened. All that feeling, all that struggle and confusion from the past few days eroded away.

He moved his lips to her jaw while his hand caressed the silk along her side. He kissed her neck, lingering before moving on to her shoulder. The material of her dress was brushed aside, off her shoulder and he kissed her there. His kisses moved down, lifting her arm to his lips with a shivery dalliance.

Fingers wove to interlock with hers briefly. Then he touched the ring on her forefinger. She watched, fascinated, as he removed it with a gentle pull, then the next. He set them on the bedside table, next to his watch, and they made a soft metallic clink before they disappeared. Then, one by one, Hal kissed her bare fingers.

She was unable to restrain from grazing the sculpted muscles of his shoulder as he trailed slowly, lightly back up her arm. When he met the soft skin at the inside of her elbow, she shuddered with the simple pleasure of it. Hal was painting her skin with electric sparks.

He returned to her throat, languishing before he resumed his trail to her other shoulder.

Only after her fingers were all bare, did he return to kiss her lips. Spinning and deep, with an undeniable rush, she she could taste his desire. Her hands edged over his skin, thrilled at the deeper connection of touch. His careful and paced breath caught and she knew he felt the same magnetic pull as she.

Hal pushed up her dress, hands underneath to caress the bare skin of her stomach and she moaned. She eased the path for him to lift her dress up and off.

Piece by piece, he removed Alex's layers, revealing every expanse of creamy white skin that he tasted with kisses along the way. Her physicality when they touched still astounded him - her warmth, her rich scent, the steadiness of her pulse. So much of the vampiric curse was possession. An undying urge to take and keep another's life force, body and blood. To lay the ultimate claim. But with Alex, he had her already. She challenged him, and he needed that, but what he felt went deeper. Her every gesture and taunt was so full of fiery vivaciousness that it made her all the more beautiful. He yearned to feel in her the very thing she no longer actually possessed.

The pull between them was irresistible. Their attraction was as elemental as the dawn, as tides, as life. And it wasn't merely the anchor he was powerless against. He craved that spark, to _feel_ her, more than he wanted to consume her. Her brawn only enhanced her beauty, her recalcitrance kept him enthralled. To witness her pleasure was _his_ pleasure. Her happiness made _his_ seem possible. She had given him hope, and then sustained it. And today, she had quelled his fears. She was _stronger_ than him. She could, and would stop him if necessary. Together, he was safe. The revelation flooded his senses.

"I love your abandon," he whispered, then kissed her again. "I love your fearlessness," he uttered as he trailed delicious kisses down her exquisite throat. Alex's breath fluttered and she swallowed, accentuating the muscles of her neck. "I love your strength," he kissed the swell of her left breast, over her heart with lips full and soft. His kisses trailed down until her nipple was in his mouth, sending crashing want through them both. She pushed at the hem of his pants and he obliged. When he returned, she embraced him heartily, running her hands down to the small of his back. As soon as she urged, he was right where she wanted. "I'm in love you," he shuddered.

He made love to her. Without doubt, without question.

When she had recounted the dreams, she remembered how he had wept silently into her hair in true remorse. What he felt - how he felt - was genuine. He may have been a monster once, but he was genuinely trying not to be now. The darkness in him was very real, and very powerful. But on some level, she had to admit she found it alluring. Because… she was attracted to that part of him too. The person he was now was held in balance against his past. How else could she explain how she still felt, even knowing all the unforgivable things that she did? As long as it remained the past, she could understand who he was now.

In the present, he made love. In the present, he whispered in her ear between heartfelt kisses and shudders and waves of ecstasy. In the present, he was hers. Wave upon wave of pleasure crashed over her with each stroke of him. Their connection was amplifying her senses, and the emotion sparked between them was amplifying that connection. He held her with reverence. Admiration. Amazement. Still slightly disbelieving in her.

She was losing herself to this as he was losing himself in her. She wanted to kiss him everywhere. She wanted to feel him all the way through with skin meeting skin, joined. She wanted to love him, just like this, always.

She kissed his shoulder and tightened her press against the strong rise of muscle at the base of his spine. He nearly collapsed into her but held their momentum. She turned her head, exposing the side of her throat, she knew, but the risk was worthwhile as she kissed his forearm. Hal trembled and sank into her with a moan. A tingling crest of pleasure was mounting. Alex kissed his forearm again, nipping at his skin with her teeth.

Their release was culmination of all that feeling, all that ache. Palpable, lucid and with such absolution it brought tears to her eyes. There was no remaining doubt that he loved her, that he was capable. And that she was capable of loving him.

She held him close as they came down, her face against his shoulder. He brushed his fingertips along her side, keeping shivers of pleasure radiating through, even though she could feel that he was fading fast. His fatigue from his body's attempt to heal was evident and it was winning him over. Eventually he gave in, settling against her with a sleepy sigh.

 _You're already stronger than you realise_ , he had told her. She wanted to use every ounce of that strength to _fight_ for this. Them.

As Hal sank into sleep, Alex knew what she had to do.


	29. War Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from Whimsyfox & TJ4ev enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
>  
> 
> _I must extend heartfelt apologies for the month-long wait on this one. The amount of things that took me away from writing in August threw me for a loop. Every week that went by did not pass unnoticed. The reviews, comments and favs that peppered those weeks lit me up and made me yearn to get back here all the sooner._

* * *

Richard Turner was sleeping.

A sprawl of magazines and paperbacks littered the floor underneath the holding cell's bench. With his head pillowed on his arm and face relaxed, he looked almost human. Innocent.

Alex folded her arms over her chest, then kicked one of the metal bars with her boot, loudly. The dozing vampire stirred at the clang, eyes coming open to stare at her with indifference, like a cat.

"Miss Millar," he said as he gracefully sat up. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Lazily, he stretched his back and rolled his neck side to side, then ran his hands over his stubbled face. Alex watched him until he looked up again. "Well?" he insisted. "You must be here at this hour for a reason."

"I want you to leave us alone."

Richard blinked, his dark eyes narrowed briefly. "You people _do_ realise that I'm in a cage, correct?"

"After this. They haven't killed you, so eventually they must plan to let you go."

"How very sweet of them. My faith in this so-called 'Department' extends about as far as my reach. Which at the present moment isn't very far. Why should I care what you want?"

Alex kept her posture strong and assertive even though it was increasingly opposite of how she felt with every move Mr. Turner made. _Maybe this wasn't such a grande idea, Millar_. "Because I have what you want," she stated, her bravado forging ahead.

Richard's eyes flashed in widened surprise before he raised one sharp brow. "I take it he's finally told you. How very... interesting," he drew out the word, making Alex realise she had inadvertently given something away about Hal. Still, she kept her stance while Richard scrutinized her. "And you would just give it to me?" he asked flatly with a sideways sneer.

"I know what he promised you. Which makes our situation… complicated," she settled on the word, not wanting to give anything else away if it could be helped. If she could make good on Hal's promise, then no one had to get hurt. Hal wouldn't have to consider killing anyone, and maybe Richard could be retained as an ally. The vampire had kept Hal's secret all these years, after all. "If it can be done without harm," she continued. "But then I want you to leave. Never speak of us. Work out whatever you need to with Hal, but after that, pretend we're not here. You never saw us. And," she added, "I want you to throw Hetty off our trail."

Richard regarded her, his posture unwavering and eyes boring into hers. He studied her with an unnatural stillness. A supernatural stillness. As Alex returned his gaze, she recognized a hint of ages lurking behind the charm of his eyes. She was attempting to make a deal with a very old and powerful being. An inkling began to spread as to how "Lord Henry Yorke" had come to partner with this man.

Richard blinked languidly, and the spell was broken. "I can see why he's fond of you," he eventually said. It was so familial, so casual, that Alex was taken aback. Here was someone who knew Hal well, both as a dry vampire, and not. Alex realised she was mistaken. Her words hadn't inadvertently given away _anything_. Richard Turner was intuitive enough, and he knew Hal well enough, to have put two and two together on his own.

"Would you still want it if you had to keep it secret?" she asked.

Richard cocked his head, then stood. He slowly came up to the bars. "I observed Henry for years," he started with a conversational tone, then leaned a shoulder next to her. "Manipulating this, maneuvering that; always steps ahead, that one. He had to be, you see. Association with Snow was a dangerous game," he said, as if that explained everything, but he continued. "As much as I had wanted the power of it once, I came to realise something. I held a unique advantage in being separate from them. Those _darling_ elite. It was better by _far_ to earn a living from them. That being said, however... I still want what he has. It was always going to be secret my dear. That was the deal," he confessed darkly. With a casual shrug, he added, "I enjoy travelling."

After having been in his foyer she could have guessed that, and he still hadn't answered her question. He must have sensed a lack of understanding in her impassive expression as he continued, "Half the world is filled with bloody churches and sacred grounds. It makes sightseeing a little difficult, if you know what I mean," he joked with a smile she didn't return. Richard kept his casual stance, but dropped his hands into his pockets. He peered at her through the bars and his mouth hardened. His face took on an expression that momentarily reminded her of Hal in an internal debate, but then it was gone. With a sigh, he elaborated, "In some ways, Henry had it easy. There was only ever one direction on the proverbial ladder to go - what with his background." Richard teased a knowing smile, then looked her in the eye. "Myself? _Well_. Let us politely say I had an entirely different life ahead of me." He paused and Alex tilted her head, pondering the history he was alluding to. Richard's gaze grew distant, and almost as an afterthought he added, "I miss it, sometimes. The way the music would resonate."

There was truth in his simple words. Maybe she was playing this one right after all. She dropped her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You know, I can see why he likes you," she said with a disarming smile. Richard huffed a small chuckle at her parry, but Alex returned to serious. "But now though - could you take it and never speak of it? Could you have that power and not tell anyone? I know you're in with Hetty. And I know the shite's changing real quick in your world."

"I'll keep making deals regardless of what little Miss does," he shrugged again. "So, yes, to answer your question. In a heartbeat. I'd do it right now," he gave her a nod of his head. "Except we need your beau."

"Oh," she slipped.

"He didn't tell you _how_ to do it, did he?" Richard asked, knowingly. Reluctantly, Alex shook her head. He sighed, "Well, it's bloody good to know he's still Henry."

"What do you mean?"

"Aside from the general belief that he's gone and truly lost it due to lack of nutrition?" Richard barbed. "The sheer magnitude of what he walked away from…" Richard looked down at his shoes. "You can't even fathom. He was a king. Now _this_?" He raised his arm and met her eyes. "Look around. You've seen this place. The Henry Yorke I know wouldn't be working with these red-tape bumbledoms."

"That's complicated."

"And isn't it always? Don't you see what they've done? Here we are, two of the most powerful vampires left standing in the western world. And they've put us in cages."

Alex shook her head, "But Hal isn't -"

"He's not? _Really_? Sound carries down here better than they think."

"What have you heard?" she cautioned the demand.

"Enough to be concerned. I'd watch your backs, if I were you. The priority here is most definitely not with supernaturals."

"And you think he doesn't know that?"

"Honestly? I don't know what to think about Henry anymore," Richard stated with a sad shake of his head. His gaze turned almost wistful for the barest of moments, then softened. "Look. I appreciate the gesture. It took some bawbles for you to come here. And… I take it our dear Henry doesn't know?" he asked. Alex remained impassive. She had learned from Hal the power of silence in negotiations. Especially when you didn't really want to answer the question anyways.

Her pause worked as Richard continued, "I do know that you're important to him. He made that abundantly clear." The way he stressed the last two words made Alex wonder just what exactly Hal had told him. "So," Richard leveled her with his charmed smile. "If you can get me out of here, the three of us will talk. Sooner, rather than late, would be most superb."

"I'll erm, see what I can do," she answered, her bravado lagging. "I'm afraid you're nigh well stuck 'til they can clear your name from the suspect list for those bombings."

"And how do you suppose they're going to do that?"

"By finding the ones actually responsible."

"Hmph," Richard gave an incredulous laugh. "Please, give my regards if you _do_ manage to mention our little chat."

Richard stepped away, apparently finished with his interest in speaking to her. When he turned his back to her, staring at his assortment of reading materials, Alex nodded to herself. _Right then_. Feeling oddly dismissed, she rent-a-ghosted away.

Appearing in the soft darkness next to the mantle, she was relieved to see that Hal was still asleep. Without her, the blankets had twined around his waist and his back was to the empty space of the bed. She teleported clear of her clothes, then remembered to slip off her rings one by one. Discreetly and slow, she lifted the blankets and gently lay down beside him. He sighed lightly, awake, and Alex tried not to freeze. Instead, she dropped her arm over his side and nestled against him.

With a whisper light kiss, she pressed her lips to the back of his neck. Whether he had been awake and knew she had gone, or whether he only slightly awoke just then, she wasn't sure. Her forehead rested against him as her hand flattened over his stomach, and his breathing softened. Relaxing into her presence, he returned to sleep.

Alex caught the sinking - that pull to join him in rest, but she hesitated, resisting. She wanted so much to escape it all and sleep with him, but didn't dare. The loosened gap of the shield Maggie had placed was like a window left propped open, one she didn't know how to reach to close. Instead, she settled next to him and allowed her mind to drift. From Richard Turner and the subtle things he had hinted about Hal, as well as the not-so subtle things, to Rook and his Department. It wasn't exactly like sleeping, but the night passed quickly all the same.

Hal was entangled with Alex when he awoke. The hunger was there, as it always was, but distant. Her head was on his chest, her arm across his torso. The press of her - in warmth and bone reality, made him ache. That she could _have_ this. That he could give her this. That _he_ could have this.

She nuzzled against him and his arms around her tightened. To hold her in this moment was enough. His love for her was enough to keep his monster at bay. _For now._ His heart nearly broke at the taunting of his inner voice, but he ignored it. She had idly begun stroking his stomach, then moved her hand to his navel, circling.

"You always stop there," he smiled into her hair.

"I like this spot," she said so matter-of-factly that he chuckled. The pressing pout of her lip at having been called out graced his chest. "No, really," she lifted her head to look at him. "I think of it as…" she paused, then looked away. "It's a part of you where you're still human."

He was absent-mindly tapping between the indentations of her vertebrae and didn't answer. She had such funny notions sometimes. In part, she was right. It was a mark of having been born. A different life, a different person. Alex twirled her fingers over his navel, then edged below the blankets.

"Did you sleep?" he asked gently, before she could proceed any further.

"Nae," she answered simply, watching his face.

"I thought you had left," he murmured, the distraction of her trailing touch muddling his thoughts.

"Still here," she said blithely before she kissed him. Avid and intentionally, she resumed her roaming beneath the blankets. Hardly appropriate for departing bed by a decent hour, but he didn't stop her.

"I can't believe you went without this for a lifetime. Hey - maybe my unfinished business is to help you make up for it? For a lifetime. Or two," she joked, writhing against him.

Hal kissed her deeply. It was one of those kisses he would have used for other means, in a different time, but the effect was the same.

Breathless, Alex managed a soft retort. "What - no protest?"

"No protest," he whispered.

* * *

When Tom returned from his Sunday brunch shift at the hotel, Hal was waiting for him at the kitchen table. A steaming pot of tea and a tray of biscuits was set out across from the paper. Alex was sprawled next to him, leaning back in her chair as she flipped through a magazine.

"Eat quickly. We have a meeting with Rook," Hal said when Tom opened the fridge.

"What? He showing up here again?" Tom asked, closing the fridge and eyeing the tray as he dropped his jacket over the back of a chair.

"No. Our briefing is at the Archive."

"So when are we going, exactly?" Allison asked jovially as she joined them in the kitchen, one finger keeping place in the book she had been reading.

Tom shot her a look. "A briefing? With _all_ o'us?"

"As if I'd miss this. Really Tom," Allison tutted then reached for a biscuit.

"Yeah, but -"

"Don't you even start. I have just as much right to be there as you. And besides, Rook likes me. I'm getting into that Archive. Finally!" She took a bite of her biscuit then turned back to Hal. "So when do we go? It will have to be soon if we're to meet with the Pack again tonight."

"Our meeting is at four," Hal answered and folded his paper. "You'll drive."

* * *

Mike Nave met them in the woods just beyond the mossy hulk cloaking the entrance to the Archive. His surprise wasn't disguised at all, however.

" _All_ of you? What, car troubles again?" Nave joked lightly about the time Hal's car wouldn't start, when Tom had been trying to evade him. When his question was met with Hal's hard stare, he fumbled, "Oh, er, well. Right."

Nave led them into the depths of the Department, occasionally glancing back to ensure they were still following him. Alex noticed that the Archive was bustling with uncharacteristic sounds of activity: distant voices, a telephone ringing, and hurried footsteps. A preoccupied, grey-clad operative passed by, but bedsides from a small nod to Nave, he barely gave their group a second glance.

Eventually, they came to the large conference room that Alex had been to previously with Hal. Pinned to the whiteboard was an oversized aerial print of the Barry Island Pleasure Park. A full box of untouched jam donuts and a steaming carafe sat front and center on the long table - a welcoming contrast to the long-barreled pistol sitting heavily between the two occupied seats.

Jonathan Castle, impeccably dressed in departmental grey, was tapping something swiftly on his mobile, ignorant of the ghost leaning on her elbow across from him. Maggie Dan smiled as they entered, laugh lines radiating out from the edges of her eyes. "Hello again dear," she greeted Alex.

"Wicked!" Tom took the seat nearest to the box of confections. Allison sat next to him, but her eyes were taking in the large room with its white boards and heavy steel table. Mike Nave pulled out the chair next to Castle, and Alex filed in after Hal.

"I'm Tom," he extended his hand to Maggie.

"Maggie Dan," the old ghost replied and gave him a friendly handshake. "And you must be Allison?"

Allison beamed and shook the ghost's hand as Castle looked up, setting his phone down with a click against the industrial metal table. Allison turned towards him and extended her hand across the table. "Allison Larkin," she introduced herself.

"I know who you are," Castle answered dryly just as Dominic Rook joined them in the room. Allison withdrew her offered hand awkwardly.

"Mr. McNair, Miss Larkin," Rook gave them a small tilt of his head in greeting, then glanced to Hal. "Everyone is here, I presume?"

"We were just making introductions," Hal answered Rook, then glanced back across the table. "Weren't we Mr. - ?"

"Castle. We didn't quite meet in London."

Rook promptly closed the door behind him. He walked to the head of the table and regarded their assembly. "Thank you all for coming," he announced diplomatically, then gestured to Jonathan Castle. "I have invited Castle to join us, as he will be our man on the ground for this operation."

"With us?" Tom asked as he reached for a jam donut. "Won't the wolves -"

"I know how to stay upwind, McNair," Castle stated with a haughty air.

"Castle is one of our more highly skilled operatives," Rook continued. "He has worked, undetected, with werewolves many times before. Yourself included."

Tom turned sheepish, remembering that Mike Nave had run into Castle after fleeing from Hal, which was how the investigator had come to join the department in the first place.

"Now," Rook began. He extracted a silver pen from his suit pocket and pointed to the large photo print of the Pleasure Park. "We have already initiated plans for a supposed gas leak and concurrent telecom black out. Civilians around the park will be evacuated in time, with Maggie Dan's assistance, if necessary."

"What? You'll haunt them out?" Alex asked, curious.

Maggie smiled. "Just a little reassurance dear."

Rook continued as if this were an everyday occurrence, unable to hear the discussion between the two ghosts. "Our team will be stationed here," Rook tapped the photo with the tip of his pen. "Here and here. We will remain in range, but out of sight. Which, hopefully will convince the Type Threes there are still people present to witness their little war."

Rook stepped away from the aerial and returned his pen to his pocket. His bright blue eyes met Hal's briefly, then continued to acknowledge the rest of the room. "The London vampires have been deterred thanks to the efforts of Yorke and Millar, but we must not assume that is the case for all Type Twos. There are those who would come merely for the frivolity, and the off-chance of sport. We will be prepared for them as well. The Park poses a convenient gathering place for the wolves, but it has made the aspect of entrapment a feasible possibility for us."

"I'm curious," Hal interrupted. "How do you usually approach rogue wolves?"

"Well, normally this department only engages with one, maybe two at a time. Our field operatives trained in tracking follow the beast until they are in range of their quarry, then..." Rook shrugged a slender shoulder.

"You _shoot_ us?!" Tom cried out, with a glance to the pistol lying on the table.

"Yes," Rook answered calmly. "With large game tranquilizers. How else would you expect your kind to have been kept quiet?"

"You put the wolf to sleep," Allison stated bluntly.

"Of course. When it is necessary. We cannot allow a newly turned wolf to stray into a township and have its way. Sooner or later, the individual will source a containment of their own. Some sooner than others," he gave Allison a small tilt of his head. "They never recollect our involvement, and in theory, we have slowed the spread of the contagion."

"So you don't go around tranquilizin' us every month then?" Tom pressed.

"Heavens no. We can't be everywhere, regretfully."

"Though we sure do seem to try," Nave grumbled and reached for the carafe. Next to him, Jonathan Castle huffed a sigh and began analyzing his cuticles. Even his lanky slouch seemed exasperated. The young operative was obviously bored of their briefing. Maggie Dan rolled her eyes at the pair of them and Alex smiled.

"And this?" Hal indicated the pistol on the table.

Rook took a breath, his gaze meeting Hal's. "Since you are working with us, the lines have blurred somewhat. Normally, we do not directly interfere with supernatural dealings. If you wish to kill each other, well, so be it. We do however, protect our own. If we can get a clean shot you will have backup during the fight," he affirmed, then glanced at the pistol. " _That_ is for after. One of our tranquilizers, should you be cornered. It will not work right away, so be forewarned. If you can manage, try not to shoot anyone before or during the change. They will remember, and there can be adverse affects if the wolf is not allowed to... manifest."

"Right nasty for the whole month, they are," Maggie tutted and shook her head.

Tom snorted at that, and was about to ask something, when Hal interjected.

"You have made an assumption that I will be there." Hal stated flatly.

Rook folded his hands behind his back and changed his stance. With a prepared tone, he said, "Never in my time here have we attempted an operation of quite this magnitude. I have requested support from our other divisions, however, we are still out of our depth. We have scanned and researched the Archive, but previous dealings of this scale were... archaic to say the least. In our current day and Age, making thirty unconnected individuals disappear would be a feat, even for this department. But, if the individuals could be kept in the park and occupied up until _after_ the change, then they could simply be put to sleep. All without showing our hand. It is my understanding, Mr. Yorke, that you have an intimate knowledge of how such a thing could be done."

Alex shook her head abruptly, "No way Hal. You barely managed just Tom the once!"

Hal met her concern but shook his head. "I was ill-prepared that evening," he answered Alex, then looked to Tom, who put down his second jam donut and met Hal's gaze almost knowingly. "There are… tricks one can employ. Especially if you have a team."

Tom squared his jaw and his eyebrows knit together as he dropped his hands into his pockets, but he didn't say anything. It was as if he was reluctantly awaiting what else Hal may have to say on the matter. Castle finally seemed interested, and Nave sipped his tea, curious.

Allison looked between them, then to Alex, trying to suss out exactly what was being insinuated. Alex had a vague idea, but Hal still hadn't spoken of his past with werewolves directly. Rook was waiting for Hal to say more with an eager tilt of his head, and Allison pursed her lips and pushed up her glasses. "What exactly are you asking, Mr. Rook?"

"The assembling group is not an established Pack, so therefore, unpredictable. Even within the confines of the park, there is no guarantee that every Type Three will remain. We cannot allow for dispersal, as you well know, and may have to resort to archaic measures. Except, if my sources are correct, Mr. Yorke has led such operations in the past."

"Let us say that there _is_ a way for the wolves to be corralled," Hal started reluctantly. "Could your marksmen handle them then?"

Rook's tone was even. "Of course."

"This is hardly top secret information," Hal said.

"No, but the implementation is before our time."

"Silver."

"Silver? That doesn't actually work." Allison scoffed. "I experimented my first month and -"

"It works if you happen to be in wolf state," Hal answered, stopping any argument from Allison.

"I fail to see how silver could contain them," Rook pressed. "It is a known deterrent, yes. But it will only send them away."

"Not if you have the park surrounded, Mr. Rook."

"Surrounded? Without detection? Impossible," he scoffed.

"No, it is really quite simple, actually." Hal looked down and lightly pressed his fingertips to the tabletop. "Bury or disguise silver thread along the perimeter. When the change is taking place, have the inside of the line discreetly and swiftly spattered with vampire blood." Hal looked up, leveling Rook with a detached expression. "The wolf will claw through, seeking the vampire but exposing the silver, and thus be repelled. Voilà. Hours of fun."

Rook opened his mouth, then his pale eyebrows met. He regarded Hal with a mixed expression of astoundment and curiosity. "That is… brilliant."

Castle however, shook his head with a frown, unimpressed. "I'm still not seeing how that would corral the beasts into an area to be captured."

"Again, it is quite simple," Hal answered the young man. "Have the trail end with actual vampires."

"Oh, but they'd be slaughtered," Maggie Dan shuddered.

Hal didn't look at Maggie when he affirmed for all to hear, "Yes. They would be slaughtered."


	30. Modicum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from Whimsyfox & TJ4ev enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
>  
> 
> _And so the story continues, one day to the full moon. M-rating reminder & fair warning for the second half of this chapter._
> 
> * * *

It had begun to rain while they strategized with Rook's department. The refuge of Allison's wagon was a relief, even though Alex remained completely dry during their swift walk back. Hal's sullen mood was pervasive. A percussive patter hit against the roof of the car, and the front window started to fog from their damp clothes. Allison turned over the ignition, the estate wagon thrumming to life, and switched on the defrost. The stale air of the auto's heat system billowed out as she pivoted to face the back seat.

"I understand that werewolves will naturally hunt vampires, but… we don't actually _eat_ them, do we?"

"That depends on how hungry you are," Hal answered offhandedly, his gaze beyond the glass.

"Eh, not exactly." Tom shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked out to what had caught Hal's attention. In the woods ahead, a pair of men in grey trench coats with grey umbrellas emerged. They wove through the trees, inevitably on their way to the Pleasure Park while the pack was otherwise occupied. Hiding silver along the perimeter of a walled park with an asphalt ground wasn't going to be an easy task. Alex didn't envy them.

"You're implying that we're not going to have a choice? Because I have absolutely no intention of eating anyone," Allison pressed Tom.

He returned his gaze to her and shook his head. "Cor' you've got a choice. You can use the cellar," Tom said, matter of factly.

Allison sighed and put the car into reverse. Sensing the budding argument, Alex interjected her own question, "What I don't get is how a little bit of silver and blood will keep everyone in the park."

Hal stopped watching the departing operatives to give Alex a sideways glance. "You _do_ remember what Tom did to our cellar?"

Tom normally transformed in the cellar with only a few claw marks to show for it. But after Hal was shot while protecting Tom from a silver bullet, Tom's wolf had gone utterly ballistic. They hadn't been able to quite clean up the last of Hal's blood, and the carpet and paneling had been decimated. All except for an area around where the silver bullet had lodged into the wall.

"I'd rather forget, but yeah…?"

"It will be similar. The blood will incite a frenzy, which will distract them from pushing at the boundary. Silver acts as a polarized force. Like a vampire with a crucifix, or a ghost with salt. If the line is unbroken, they cannot cross it."

"Why go to the trouble to bury it then?" Alex pressed.

"Because in human form, it has little effect, as Allison has noted. They mustn't know it is there prior to transformation."

The unspoken implication sat between the seats of the car. Hal had done this before. _Several_ times before. With sacrificial lambs for the slaughter. Not even Allison wanted to bring that up.

Tom broke the short silence. "At least we get to chose who we're to shred and all. You think Rook's fellows will be able to stash 'em away without anyone seeing?"

"They managed to bring down Richard, and he's far from inexperienced. Rook's operatives are plenty capable, I'm certain."

"So this is how you trapped the Lobisomem." Alex made the statement reluctantly, looking forward into the defrosting glass.

"No," Hal shook his head wearily and returned his gaze out the window.

"No?" She turned towards him, surprised.

"It is how many other packs were trapped and culled. The Lobisomem…" Hal shook his head, gaze far away. "We allowed to get away."

After a pause, Allison asked a curious, "Why?"

"By that point," Hal paused, took a breath. "I convinced Snow to retain a certain amount for sport. We forced them into hiding by hunting the careless on mornings after, until eventually, an agreement was made."

"Oh," Alex answered softly. Hal had hinted as much, but never flat out said, until now. Vampires had nearly wiped werewolves off the supernatural list, and Hal had been a primary part. Tom swallowed, then faced the glass, clearly at odds with how to respond to his friend's honesty.

"Remind me to never land on your bad side," Allison disparaged, turning onto the main road When no one responded, she cleared her throat. "The, uh, pack is running again tonight. Bonding and whatnot. Shall I stop off at home?"

"No need. We'll join, at least for the start," Hal answered. "I would like to see Milo, if he is agreeable."

"Grande. We've time to swing by Fontygary's then. I'm starving," Tom proclaimed.

"But you just ate three confections!" Alex outburst, glad for the break in tension.

"Yeah, I shoulda had another 'un," Tom mused.

"Good idea. I'm hungry too." Allison nodded agreeably.

Hal shook his head then gave Alex a tilted smile. When she looked at him quizzically, he just shrugged, "Werewolves."

* * *

At the trailhead car park, Hal observed that Tom & Allison needn't have bothered with the chippey. Ahead, Christa was sitting with Irving on top of a picnic table under the makeshift shelter, both eating from steaming bowls of what smelled like stew, and engaged in conversation. Hal wished the girl wasn't here, but maybe she had found something of what she had been seeking.

Overall, it appeared that the group had dwindled by a nigh dozen, which was to be expected. After their training yesterday, the impending fight would have taken on a sharper edge of reality. Hal wondered just how many of them had come purely to meet others of their kind. The gathering that remained had a more somber scent; a determined calm before the storm.

Tom stepped out of the car and glanced back to Hal & Alex. "You coming?"

"In a moment," Hal answered, causing Alex to pause with her hand on the door. Tom held Hal's gaze, openly deliberating as the persistent rain re-dampened his short hair. Allison came around the car to join him, flipping up the hood of her jumper and glancing in.

"You're probably right," Tom said after a pause. "Guess we'll see you at home, yeah?"

"Enjoy the run," was all Hal said in reply. Tom nodded and closed the door, muffling Allison's "what was that about" as they walked away, towards the shelter.

"What - you just going to sit and wait for Milo?" Alex asked.

"He'll come."

"Huh," Alex folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the door. Hal looked pensive, gaze not just afield, but ages away. He was right, however. Once Tom and Allison had joined the group under the shelter and those milling began to gather in, a hulking figure broke away. Alex watched Hal shift his demeanour as Milo approached the car, casually crossing his injured leg over his knee. She kept her arms over her chest and vaguely wondered if she should leave. Milo tapped on the window, then opened the door to take Tom's vacated seat. Wet leather creaking, he pivoted to crack them a smile.

"Come to check up on us have you? Or are you here to run with the wolves?"

"No, I'm here to talk to you," Hal answered plainly.

Milo raised an eyebrow, then wiped some of the rain off his face with his hand. "I gotta admit, I don't get it. Why _are_ you helping?"

"Tom is my friend."

"Yeah, yeah and bullshit. What's in it for you? There's got to be something other than Tom keeping your interest. You're aware of our intentions, after all."

"Tom is my friend, and…" Hal paused. Alex realized his every move was deliberate. "I would like to make amends for lives lost an age ago."

Milo shook his head and his cordial expression hardened. "You can't buy redemption. You killed us in the past. It doesn't change a thing by playing nice now."

"No. It doesn't change anything," Hal agreed. "Except for the lives of those currently involved."

Milo's expression remained unmoved. "You really are a strange one."

"And you worked for Mr. Snow. Enlighten me, if you please," Hal tilted his head. "Why are _you_ helping? What is ' _in it_ ' for you?"

Milo smiled roguishly, the edges of his eyes creasing, like he was glad Hal asked. "Our side is going to come out ahead in this. I just want to be there when it happens."

"Do you really believe that you can make even a dent in the number of vampires in the world, much less the United Kingdom? You are better informed than most. Surely you can appreciate the error in that calculation."

"Oh, I know this is just a drop in the bucket. But we'll make quite the stir. And _that_ I believe is needed. The old ways are finished, Mr. Yorke," Milo declared with conviction. "Change is coming."

"Change is always coming."

"True. You would know." He grinned. "Will you join us tomorrow?"

"Perhaps. If I do, it will be covert," Hal answered without really answering. "I'm still curious though. Who else besides those here are on 'your side'? Who contacted you?"

Milo narrowed his eyes and paused. Then with a shrug, "I was contacted same as everyone else. By a werewolf."

"But you don't know who?" Alex chimed in, disbelieving.

"Does it matter who started the fire as long as it spreads?" Milo asked in return.

"And yet, they don't appear to be here," Hal glanced out the window to where the pack was departing, into the darkening woods. "So yes, I'd say it matters."

"Maybe," Milo said, unconcerned. "Tomorrow's moon will come regardless. And it won't just be werewolves who are transformed. This secret's been kept for far too long." After locking gazes with Hal briefly, Milo opened his door. "We'll see you on the other side."

Hal didn't rebut him or ask anything further, he just watched Milo depart. When Milo picked up speed to catch up with the pack, Hal turned to glance at Alex.

"He's lying."

"About changing the world?" Alex scoffed, still reeling from the bizarre conversation.

Hal shook his head. "About who contacted him."

"How do you know?" Alex thought her lie detection skills were pretty hard-wired after looking after three teenage brothers, but she hadn't sensed anything amiss. Aside from the absurdity of the whole conversation, that is.

"He deflected," Hal said as Milo disappeared into the woods. "And he did it on purpose. Whoever it is, they'll be there tomorrow."

* * *

Alex teleported them back to the foyer of Honolulu Heights and felt glad to be home. As Hal removed his wet coat and boots, she leaned against the bar. Briefly, she let her worried mind rest in the contrast of his navy shirt against the pale skin of his bicep. "You know, it really should be a criminal offense for you to wear blue," she said the thought out loud.

"Should it?" Hal asked innocently. "You could always have me take it off."

He smiled as he passed her, on his way to the stairs and she was momentarily stunned. _Had he just..?_ How could they casually flirt when everything was so serious? The afternoon's strategy with Rook had made her painfully aware of how much trust they were placing in the Department. Trust that the wolves would be contained. Trust that they'd be stopped in time. Trust that none of their friends would get hurt. And now, the whole exchange with Milo? Hal really didn't seem concerned.

"I went to see Richard," she blurted. Hal's smile dropped and he stilled, hand on the railing. Alex winced at her own inability to think these things through. Given the quick change of his expression, she had no choice now but to continue. "Last night. He was sort of nice."

"Richard isn't nice," he cautioned, facing her.

"Yeah? Well neither are you, according to you."

He regarded her, the set of his jaw unchanging. "Why?"

Alex spun the ring on her index finger with her thumb. In the light of day, and especially after having spoken with Richard, her reasoning seemed absurd. But she had felt so strongly, and really thought that she could help. "I asked him to leave us be."

"What, exactly, gave you the idea that he would listen?"

"I thought… if I could give him what he wanted…"

"Jesus, Alex -"

"But it's not that simple, is it?"

"No," he quickly shook his head once. "No, it's not that simple." Hal didn't offer anything further.

"He, uh, warned us. Against the Department."

"Of course he would. And?"

"And… nothing. He said their priority isn't with us."

"Well, that is true. Their priority is to keep any of this from getting out." Hal rubbed his eyes, suddenly appearing wearied. "Look. Tomorrow will be what it may, but tonight I require a modicum of normal. 'More or Less' is on soon, and I need to stretch."

Dismissive, he turned away from her and ascended the stairs. Alex watched him go. How could he be so casual about this? In a huff of frustration, she turned away as well, stomped into the living room, and flicked on the telly.

Except, her temper was short lived. In light of everything tomorrow, how had she expected Hal to react? Thanking her for trying to solve at least one of their problems? Agreeing with her solution, and then proceeding to tell her how to do it? She flipped through the channels mindlessly and without interest. He could be so damn bloody… _Hal_ sometimes. She sighed, and settled on Antiques Roadshow, even though no one else was watching it with her.

All through Fiona and team's visit to Northhamptonshire, and a parade of pedigreed and terribly dry marine paintings (if she were honest), she fretted about tomorrow. What if the werewolves found out? Or even worse, what if they didn't and the trap worked? What even happened to a pack of werewolves, once transformed? Would they start fighting each other when they were finished with the vampires? And if a larger number of vampires showed up than both Hal & Rook thought? Would they all end up fighting a real battle, outnumbered? Would Rook back them up as he claimed? And now, Milo's mystery mastermind may show up as well? It was all too much.

Painfully, she missed home, and her own sense of "normal." How had she gotten so far flung from that?

 _She had died_ , the answering thought came unbidden. She had died, been to the other side, and came-to in a world that didn't make sense anymore. A world that had always been there, but kept secret.

Hal's world. Tom's world.

And now, hers.

The cheery credits of the show surprised her. An hour had passed. She clicked off the telly and stood. Hal had wanted a 'modicum of normal' tonight, and until recent events, that had included her regularly joining him at this hour.

A pair of voices were discussing personal finance when she appeared. He knew she was there, yet continued his count of press-ups under his breath. She watched him, knowing she would never tire of watching him. Knowing she tended to interrupt around this time for that very reason. He finished, sprung forward and stood in one smooth motion, then met her watching gaze with an opening tilt of his chin.

"You're cross with me," she started, but he shook his head. He took a step back and sank onto the sofa. With a glance, he indicated that she should join him.

"I"m not cross with you Alex," he said when she hesitated.

"You're not? Oh." Befuddled, she approached. Hal watched as she sat, gingerly trying to leave space between them. He sighed, then reached out to draw her close.

"You're foolish, and unpredictable, but that doesn't mean I'm upset."

She nestled into his offered embrace and his arm tucked around her shoulders while Radio Four droned in the background.

"I just thought…" she trailed off, _feeling_ foolish.

"I know," he answered softly and held her closer, resting his chin on top of her head. Somehow, those two simple words were comforting. Hal at least understood what she had tried to do, and didn't fault her, even if she had gone off half-cocked.

They remained that way for a while, comfortable with each other, and Alex kicked off her boots. Hal seemed to be listening to the radio, but she could sense that his focus was drifting. The whole ordeal with Milo and the werewolves had affected him more than he was letting on. Through his silence, however it was clear to Alex that he didn't wish to talk about it.

Instead of needling him with more questions he was reluctant to answer, she began to trace circles on his thigh, spiraling outwards. His relaxed muscles tensed. "This is not a good night, Alex."

She raised her head from his shoulder to look at him, registered the overt gravity of his eyes, and was unable to stop herself from smiling. "But it's just like running, Hal," she said, meeting his challenge and resuming the swirling pattern. He closed his eyes briefly, to rebuff her again, no doubt, but she didn't give him the chance. Maybe this modicum of normal was precisely what they both needed. A moment of calm, before whatever was to come on the morrow.

She adjusted the angle of her torso, turning fully towards him as she gripped his upper thigh. She leaned in close, her breast against his arm and her face only inches from his as she stared into his eyes.

"You know what I love?" Alex, leaving no room for debate, quickly unfastened his trousers. Hal was too startled to reply. Her question had thrown off his guard, so she took advantage of his instant inability for speech. "Even after everything, and you being a bloody, _epically_ ancient vampire-" she slipped her hand into his pants, and he couldn't hide the hitch in his breath. "-you're still a man." She kissed him quickly. "And men, I get."

"And ancient vampires?" Hal's words came breathless. He was succumbing, giving into her without a fight.

"That, I'm working on," she replied with a grin.

He met her eyes then leaned forward to return her kiss. Lightly at first, but quickly sparking. She took it as an invitation, and turned all the way into him, sliding her knee across his thighs to straddle his lap while she stroked. His hands caught her waist, then pushed up the skirt of her dress to expose her leggings and camisole.

She shuddered with pleasure as his fingertips edged under the hem to grace her skin. One of his hands moved to the small of her back and he urged her against him. Material strained between them, and Alex gasped. He had effectively limited the range of her hand and positioned her to hit against his arousal with perfection. He kissed her without hesitation, a kiss full of promise, and Alex tried to retain her focus. Tried, and failed as Hal coaxed her to move in line with him.

He leaned back against the arm of the sofa, forcing Alex forward and she moaned. The hardness of his erection hit in just the right spot to make her want more. How had he gained the upper hand so quickly?

With one hand holding her in place, his other caught the zipper of her jacket and slid it down, the teeth easily giving way. Faced now with just silk, his hands returned to cup her buttocks. When he kissed the swell of her breast over the fabric, Alex surrendered her attempt to overcome him. Instead, she pushed up his shirt with a sudden yearning for far less fabric between them. She held the fistful of navy cotton to his waist to keep her movement with him, then trailed the soft line down from his navel. Hal's stomach trembled as his hands went past the band of her tights and pants. One hand pressed to her sacrum, making his stiffness beneath her all the sweeter. The second caressed lower, an exploration of the sensitive skin between her legs. Then he eased two fingers into her.

"Sweet bloody-" she moaned. The pressure underneath her, combined with the ministrations of his hand… She was powerless. He was giving her this, and she was powerless against him. She kissed him with love, with awe, with lust - all of it on her tongue and in her taste and giving it back to him as she moved with him. The tingling build of his focus on her grew with each kiss and she moaned into his mouth and he _did not stop_. Wave upon wave of pleasure and she wanted to cry, to scream, to sink with him into release - but he wasn't done. They weren't.

"Shall we take our running to bed, hmm?" He whispered into her ear as he stood, lifting her. Alex clung to him, panting against his neck as she spasmed in the absence of his delicate fingers. He took her to the edge of the bed and sat with her on his lap.

He coaxed the jacket from her arms, then guided her dress up and off. Slowly, he dropped back, laying them down with tightening control. There was still far too much fabric between them so she tugged at his shirt, causing him to half sit up again to allow her to remove it.

She loved the feel of him - the hardness of his body. Hal clearly loved her soft curves. His hands followed the line from her breasts down to the edge of fabric at her waist, then back up with her camisole. He bent his knees to support her, feet resting on the edge of the bed.

Catching her breath, she sat astride him in just her leggings and lacy bra, her hands on his bare chest. Despite feeling beyond control just moments prior, she felt powerful. She _did_ have power over him. Her epic vampire. Her Hal.

She silenced the radio with a thought. Then she leaned down, sliding her hands from his chest to his waist. As she kissed him deeply, she pushed at the edge of his trousers and pants. He tilted his hips up and assisted in removing them.

"This is hardly fair," he commented, almost poutingly and she smiled. She agreed. Upright once more, she used one hand to unhook the clasp of her bra and coax the straps from her shoulders. His fingers spread wide over her belly, then up her sternum to pull the lace free. She dropped low to kiss him once more, breasts pressing to his chest as his thumbs hooked the waistband of her leggings and urged them down.

Bare skin against bare skin, she couldn't take him inside soon enough. The hard tip of him slid into her, achingly retreated a fraction, then she sank all the way. They both cried out with the relief of it.

She had dropped low, her breasts and heat against his chest and nuzzling his neck as she spiraled her hips. It was building; he could feel the pressure in his mouth. But so was she. His every sense told him that Alex was precariously close to an immediate orgasm from his earlier efforts. He had ridden this line before. _He could control -_

Alex moaned deeply, arching into his upward thrust, arching her neck. _Sweet fuck._ He kissed her throat - her exquisitely tantalizing throat. Another thrust and she bowed, her neck pressed against his mouth. He groaned as his fangs pulsed, aching to push through, and he forced his mouth closed. _No._

He pushed her away and up, flattening his palm over her rapidly beating heart. She mirrored him with one hand against his chest, over his heart to support her upright motion - and she _did not stop_. She looked him in the eyes, placed her free hand over his and continued their rhythm, gliding up over him then drawing him deep.

His fingertips strained under her palm and she pressed hers against his heart in answer, deepening their strokes. _If he could just keep her aloft…_

"Let go," she whispered, sliding her fingers between his and holding them to her thudding breast. _Off all the moments!_ Her words were all the permission his demon needed to manifest, beyond his control.

He gasped, exposing the tips of his fangs as they dropped. "You're not going to hurt me. Let go," she repeated, keeping a slow spiral of her hips around him. She knew the threat of his teeth, yet she kept her arm where it was. Challenging him to do it, and in turn challenging him to not. _She was running him._ No caution nor hesitation as she blazed boldly forward into her relish of him.

He could feel her every breath, every shudder, every sigh of pleasure. He could taste her scent on his tongue. The bond between them wound tight, competing with his hunger for her. His fangs throbbed with need, but he locked his arm against her, keeping her out of reach.

She slid over him and then down, taking them deeper, past his control, and building up towards that crescendo of release. But he knew that wasn't enough. It would never be enough. _This was how he woke with corpses_. This was how it could start; all the chaos and destruction he craved just under the surface…

And yet, he wanted her like this, commandeering him, always. He wanted this precious and precarious balance; the wanting of her and the _wanting_ of her.

With one last insurmountable upward thrust, he shuddered and shook and spasmed into her and Alex arched forward in abandon, pushing against him with nails biting into his skin, accenting and accelerating the flood of sensation. She moaned and the bedside lamp flickered twice then shattered into darkness as she came with him.

Breath and beat, panting, they stilled, Alex aloft as she slowed the gyrations of her hips. His fangs were still brazenly out and he winced his eyes closed, willing the tips to retract, but they did not. Waves of pleasure crashed and ebbed against waves of hunger, the edge still painfully near. He desperately tried to avoid the thought of how _easy_ it would be to take the tender skin at the inside of her elbow. _To kiss her, and bite through…_

She pushed against him, dropping forward and forcing his arm to the side as another ebbing wave of pleasure crested with the movement. Hal opened his eyes to her face hovering over his, her hand coming to cup his cheek. All she did was stare at him, a half-smile teased at her lips as she evened her breathing. Soon, his evened to match, calming, as she stared him down. When she kissed him, his fangs were finally gone.

A secondary release swept over him, stronger than any trail running or countless regimes. With Alex, it wasn't about domination, or power, or blood or control. It just was. Touch and sensation, pleasure and beauty. The curved line of her cheek and how it softened when her lips parted in ecstasy. The fluttering press of her belly against his. The strength of her thighs against his sides and the press of her fingers, coaxing him deeper. Always deeper.

It was all in the gentle way he could be with her after, entwined, the depths of her eyes searching his. As if she would forever be trying to decipher him.

It came down to these small moments. Fractions of time when he _could_ let go. When it could all be just about them. An embrace, a touch of skin and gasp of breath. In Alex, his attention could rest.

Downstairs, the sound of the door opening broke the quiet pause between them. It closed, then there was a crash, and a thud. Alex lifted her head, listening, but Hal only hugged her close. "It's just Tom," he said.

There was another loud thud, then another, more muffled. To Alex, it definitely sounded like Tom was being attacked. "But -" she countered, and slid free of Hal, dropping off to his side as she began to sit up.

"It's Tom, and Allison," Hal added.

Alex listened for another half sec, then lay back down with a smile. "Oh," she said, understanding.

Hal tugged at the blankets they were laying on, and she nudged over to accommodate. He tucked them in, then draped his arm over her side to cradle her to his torso, his knee backing hers. She sighed contentedly, inching impossibly closer to him, then laughed. "I'm on the wrong side of the bed."

Sleepily, he kissed her shoulder. Hal was completely relaxed with his face next to her neck, and Alex felt a certain satisfied pride at just how right she had been about him. "There is no right or wrong," he murmured.

"Eh?"

"Only habit," his words were soft, and she momentarily wondered if he meant more than merely their bedding arrangements.

"You're falling asleep," she said instead. "Maybe I should go."

"Mmm," was all she heard in response, but he held her closer.

At the edge of his slip into sleep, the window propped open between them seemed so obvious to her now. Maggie had said she had to stop wanting to know - but it wasn't quite that. She had to stop _fighting_ the knowing. She had accepted him for who he was, in all his complications, danger and history. Even though she was fairly certain he wouldn't hear her, she covered his hand with hers and whispered, "I love you too, you know."

Hal didn't answer, and Alex didn't hesitate in falling asleep with him. As she sank into the soft relief of sleep, she knew she wouldn't dream.


	31. Praxis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from Whimsyfox & TJ4ev enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> * * *

The gentle sensuality of the morning is what Alex would dwell upon later. The way they had woken with the faintest light and birdsong, and how the warmth and pull between them sat rich and heavy. Hal held her, softly entwined and dozing, with his arm across her belly and fingertips cupping her hip. He was lingering, long past when he would usually be rising for his regimented routine.

While he dozed, Alex slowly turned to position herself against his growing hardness. She had to be careful - tormenting Hal when he wasn't fully awake wasn't exactly safe. Once, she had felt his fangs drop against her shoulder and had to wrench away. But this morning she was languid, slow, waking him with incremental, writhing movement.

Pulled free of the brooding thoughts he'd awoken to, Hal smiled with an acute awareness of Alex. At the end of his last cycle, he had become bored with sex. His appetite had increased to the point that control over others and cruelty had been the only way to feel. But now, after fifty-five years of abstinence, even the simplest touch was pleasureful. With Alex, everything felt heightened. He wondered how much was the Hangori bond, and how much was simply from his long-held restraint.

He had never really thought much before about how it was for the Hangori. He had witnessed the endings of nearly a dozen, but never once thought about the benefit to the affected vampire from such a bond. He was still astounded that she continued to want him, even after all that she knew, and had seen. He made a contented, sleepy sigh into her shoulder, amused by her attempt to rouse him, then wrapped his arm around her torso. He caught her hand in his, then whispered, "You're insatiable."

"Mmm," she intertwined their fingers and curved against him more. "This is what I've always imagined a honeymoon would be," she whispered.

"Completely lazy?" he huffed.

"Nae silly," Alex teased, feeling shy by her admission but she felt his smile, lips pressed to her shoulder.

"There's usually room service," he grumbled, completely serious, trailing fingers from her arm to the soft underside of her breast.

"Aw. Are you in need of nourishment?" She mocked, but turned to kiss him. He responded, returning her kiss, softly at first, but then with a rapidly growing hunger.

Hal stopped abruptly, sighed and pulled back. "I need tea."

" _You_ need a butler," she taunted, then a realisation spanned across her face. "Oh gobs! You actually had one once, didn't you?"

"A butler?" Hal huffed a laugh - a slight peal of mirth - and the brief darkness dispersed with her use of humour to deflect his hunger. He hugged her close, resting his forehead against hers.

Alex stared back, noting that Hal's eyes held a gentle peace, the flecks of green brightened in the morning light. The sadness that was usually there seemed further away somehow. His arm settled over her waist as he pulled away slightly, regarding her with a curious smile.

"It's a most remarkable thing, really."

"That we're sleeping together?" Alex grinned. She knew he was leading into something, but couldn't help but tease.

"That _is_ nice, I must admit," he answered slyly. She squared her jaw and faked a punch with mock hurt. He caught her fist and held her hand to her breast. His mirth turned to contemplation as he met her eyes, and he softly added, "I think… I'm happy."

"Well ring the bells!" she laughed, playing off the sudden seriousness of his expression. Hal tapped his fingers against hers as they lay there, face to face. "Mmm," she dropped her arm over his side. "Admit it. You just needed a good shag."

"How horribly uncouth," he said, but with a brief corner of a smile on his lips. "No, I see now that I've needed a mission outside of myself. Sustaining restraint, control - it has taken a full dedication of focus, but has held little joy. I was merely existing. You have guided me to another way." Hal interlocked their fingers. "One that I'm better for. This?" he said and squeezed her hand. "Being with you? Being human? It has been coming easier."

Alex held his gaze for a long moment, seeing every detail of his eyes that held so much age in their depths. She pulled her hand free and turned onto her stomach, her earlier flirtation lost with the turn of their conversation. "You needed a job," she said plainly. "Your purpose as a vampire was pretty bloody clear. But as a man?" She tilted her head. "It's good. What you're doing. Not saying I'm thrilled about tonight, but I get it - why you're helping."

Hal continued to regard her, until suddenly, the heaviness of his expression lifted, turning mysterious. "Come with me,"

"What? For tea?"

"To the bath. I wish to try an experiment," Hal said shrewdly as he sat up. "Don't teleport," he added.

"But my clothes…" the question trailed unfinished as Hal stood, pulled on his pants then crossed the room to open his armoire. He held out his silk dressing gown to her.

"But I can't." She sat up, clutching the blankets over her chest.

"I would wager that you can." Hal raised an eyebrow, then added, "Please, indulge me."

Alex let go of the blankets with a sigh, then stepped out of bed as Hal walked towards her. She wondered what he was really up to, until he turned her, placing the gown around her shoulders. The material felt cool and light - and it _stayed_. She put her arms through then tied the sash.

"Och! Does this mean...?" She turned side to side, testing the material. "Sweet jaysus - I can change clothes!"

"To a human, I believe you would still appear as a floating garment. But in the house…"

She twirled with the revelation, the silk feeling fantastic as it brushed her bare skin, then kissed him gleefully.

"Come," he held his hand out to her. "That wasn't actually the experiment."

Curiosity piqued, she took his hand. "You must _really_ be sweet on my dress if you've been keeping that all to yourself," she teased. Hal just gave an amused shake of his head.

The corridor was quiet and the house was empty. Tom and Allison had already departed for work and class while they had been dozing. They entered the bathroom and Hal turned on the shower. He reached for a clean towel, then casually removed his pants. Alex noted that the bruising from where Milo had struck him had all but faded, even though the burn had not. Hal seemed rested, and she wondered if there was a connection. She had been right last night. She hadn't dreamed. Pausing at the shower door, he indicated with a tilt of his head for her to join him.

Alex raised an eyebrow - Hal _inviting_ her into the shower for once?- but untied the sash and slipped free of the gown. She caught herself from letting it fall and pool to the floor, and hung the non-disappearing garment on the back of the door. Then she joined Hal and shut the glass door behind her. He was standing in the spray with beads of water speckling his hair. He turned to the side to allow Alex to enter the spray as well. As always, the water didn't touch her.

Hal pulled her close, pressing their bodies together. Already, his skin felt warmed from the shower. She loved the feel of him; how the muscles of his chest and stomach pressed against her as he breathed, despite his leanness. Holding her by the shoulders, he kissed her deeply, passionately. As they kissed, he turned her so she was fully under the spray of water and kept kissing her. Then, he pressed his tongue into her mouth.

Wet warmth cascaded around her, dousing her, covering her. Alex pulled away in shock, but Hal was triumphant. "Thought so," he smiled, then brushed a bit of wet fringe clear of her eyes. "It is stronger when you haven't teleported." He kissed her again. Realising what was happening, Alex slipped her tongue into his mouth, tasting him, and the water shivered down her skin once more. She could feel every tiny, miraculous and wonderful rivulet. The heat hit her in comforting waves. As she 'tasted' from him, the water would hit her as well. Hal was running his hands down her wet skin, over her breasts, her sides and down to her legs. She felt overwhelmed with the intensity of this sheer pleasure of _sensation_. She could feel the wetness of his skin on hers, she could taste it on his lips.

Exuberantly participating in his experiment, she explored the boundaries of his theory. She followed the slick trail of water everywhere; his shoulders, the muscles of his arms, his sculpted stomach and the hard-on he had for her. As she kissed him, the water flickered with her tangibility of it. She wanted to kiss the rivulets off his skin. She wanted to taste him everywhere. When she took the head of him into her mouth and the water came crashing down again, he groaned. He ran his fingers through her wet hair and she sucked and swirled her tongue around him. He loathed having her kneel though, and soon he was urging her up.

Holding the soap, he kissed her, setting every nerve ending alight with pleasure. He began to bathe her, massaging her skin with sudsy warmth and care. She was alive under his touch; alive, well and loved. He lathered the soap between her legs, then set the bar aside. He kissed her to rinse, the flood of sensation of the water and his massaging hands rocking her breathless.

Giving her reprieve, he quickly began to wash his hair. Hal rinsed while Alex caught her breath, then he reached past her for his shave crème. Once, with curiosity she had opened the old-fashioned, round tin to sniff. The scent was pleasant, but it wasn't the only reason Hal smelled so good. He turned, to be clear of the spray, and applied the crème with his back to her. Alex nabbed the soap. She hugged him from behind as he reached for his razor and he closed his eyes, a smile peeking out from under the white froth. He kept his eyes closed and began to shave. Using both hands to guide the blade, he made shaving without a mirror look completely intuitive.

Alex kissed the moistened space between his shoulder blades, then began rubbing his torso with soap. He didn't falter or miss a swathe of his shave, just continued, methodically, by rote. Alex set the bar back on the shelf, then ran her hands over his soapy skin, running the lather up his chest, down his abdomen and around to his back. She took the same care he had given her; revelling in the simplicity of touch. Loving the feel of his arms, his back, his legs, she saved his penis for last.

Completely controlled, Hal finished shaving. He returned the razor the shelf, then leaned into her embrace, allowing her to 'clean' him for a moment longer. But then he turned, pushing them back under the spray. He cupped her face, wrapped his arm low around her waist, and pressed the yearning line of their bodies together. Seemingly unable to resist, he kissed her again, sucking the water from her lower lip as his hands dropped to slide over her ass, grinding her pelvis to his.

"Hal, if we -" she gasped.

"Yes," and he cupped her, lifting her up against the back wall of the shower. He growled low in his chest with pleasure as they joined with slick ease. Saturated and slippery, in steam and rivulets of water, they were completely submerged in each other.

Yes, later, Alex would _very_ much miss this morning.

Even though the hot water ran out near immediately, and they had to quickly dry to take their amorous behavior back to bed. Even though Hal still returned to his routines right aft, back to silent counting and his commitment to the practises he believed would keep him safe. Later, she would hold the memory of the entire morning dear and cling to it as the lifeline that it really was.

For the sake of them both.

* * *

Work was _utterly_ dragging.

Tom forged the thought as he formed yet another pointless little pastry. He should have taken the day off as well as tomorrow. But they had bills to pay, and he was trying to be a responsible and upstanding citizen now. His whole life had been about nothing but the wolf for so long, that keeping his dedication to this small part of his human life seemed right.

But it sure was difficult sometimes. Just under his skin, the wolf was pacing - raring for the fight, and eager to run again. Last night's lope had certainly helped, just like McNair had taught him. But what McNair neglected to mention was just how stupendous it was to give in to their _other_ waxing urges. Tom grinned at the thought.

He couldn't be more happy with how Allison was embracing her wolf. And how they were together. She loved him, which he sometimes still couldn't believe. Him, scruffy Tom McNair with someone so smart and pretty and wonderful? He'd shoot the moon for her.

Tom worried though, his grin turning down as he continued his work. Tonight was going to be a real, honest-to-goodness fight. The likes of which he hadn't seen since the days he fought alongside his Dad. Under the surface, his wolf growled and pawed in anticipation. Allison had handled herself plenty well before, but he still wished she wasn't going to insist on coming.

If only he could formulate the proper defense for her inevitable debate. Except, he already knew; there was no winning this one. But it didn't mean he wouldn't try.

* * *

Hal was meditating.

At least, that is what it looked like he was doing. Seated on the floor, at the center of his room, eyes closed with his hands resting lightly on his knees. Alex had brought tea, but he gave no outward indication that he knew she was there.

She set the steaming mugs down on the nightstand, then folded her arms over her chest, watching him for a moment. When there still was no change displayed, she stepped forward, then dropped to her haunches in front of him, curious.

Hal seized her suddenly, tipping her forward.

"Aargh!" She landed in his lap. "What are you doing?"

He smiled and helped her up. "What did it look like? I'm preparing," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"I see," she said slyly.

"You can join, if you would like."

"Oh no, I'm good. _Totally_ good," she made to stand, but he kept his hold on her. "What? You really want me to zen out with you?" She laughed, but Hal held her, poised with some retort. The insistent trill of the doorbell interrupted whatever he was about to say however.

He cocked his head, listening, then the doorbell rang again. Alex stood, as did Hal, who proceeded to leave the room to answer. She followed, and he paused briefly on the stairs, then slowed his pace. The familiar silhouette at the door switched to a pounding knock. Hal opened the door just as Milo started to turn away.

"Ah. You _are_ home. May I?" Milo looked past Hal to Alex and the foyer beyond. Hal hesitated, and Milo gave him a toothy smile. "Yes, I know where you live. I'd rather not be seen with that knowledge, if you don't mind?"

After a small, expressionless deliberation, Hal wordlessly stepped aside and allowed Milo to enter. The stocky werewolf glanced at the street, then came in, walking straight into the living room and blatantly looking around.

"Hmm. Now _there's_ brand promise delivered," he chuckled to himself, then turned away from the beach mural to face them both. "We've got a problem."

"Do we?" Hal asked, innocently enough.

"I was just at Finnegan's," Milo said, then leaned against the sofa back. When neither of them replied, he added. "Yeah, see it was the most interesting thing - when Health and Safety showed up?"

"Well, their kitchen is certainly suspect," Hal said without pause, keeping his expression completely impassive.

"They cleared everybody out down the entire stretch. Fire & Rescue, Heddlu - the works. Bomb threat, apparently."

"A _bomb_?" Alex slipped. Milo glanced at her, catching her surprise, then back to Hal.

"There has been quite the rash of those lately," Hal said flatly.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about this one, would you?"

"I know you wouldn't have enjoyed being blown up."

Milo's eyes narrowed. "You called it in?"

Alex knew Hal had done nothing of the sort, but he retained his wordless stare in a way that made Milo believe his own words. The werewolf appeared to think quickly, but then shook his head. "Vampires wouldn't do this. Your kind likes a good fight _far_ too much."

"You are forgetting the length of vendetta they can hold. Strikes have already been made against them."

"And this was someone striking back. I get that."

"Well good thing they weren't successful!" Alex added, to play along.

"That we know of," Milo answered, then stepped closer to Hal. "Your _friend_ is quite involved in this. You'd say if you knew something, wouldn't you?"

"Of course."

"Well bombs or no, the gathering may be visited on by police sooner tonight than anticipated. I'm passing the message for discreet assembly on our part. There's no point in making the news before we've had the chance to kill a few vampires."

"I would hate to see you disappointed."

"Yes, well, we'll see who shows. Gwedore already had a run-in with 'em in bloody Tesco's. I'd lay low, if I were one such as yourself."

"Are you actually warning me off?"

"Just stating the facts."

"How did you come to know we were here?"

Milo grinned, "Oh, I've known for quite some time. Our old boss had me watching the place. Spooky, that one."

Hal's impassive expression broke into brief surprise, then he shook his head. "More akin to maniacally thorough."

"Funny, that. He once said the same thing about you."

* * *

Hal had made a ridiculously large amount of pasta, Alex noted from her perch on the counter. It would have been enough to feed her whole family, with dregs for a lunch or two the following day. Wearing an unnecessary apron over dark jeans and a black shirt, he opened jars of meaty red sauce and stirred it in, making a disagreeable face.

"Why'd you cook so much if you don't like it, numpty?"

"It's for Tom and Allison. She is going to insist on going. Having enough food _will_ help keep the wolf calm."

"Oh. Maybe she won't have to eat anyone then?"

"Perhaps."

Hal's timing of dinner was impeccable. Allison's car pulled up, returning from picking up Tom. They came up the walk and into the foyer, noisy and rushed. Alex heard Allison throw down her bag at the table, buttons clicking, then the pair of them came into the kitchen with cheeks flushed and eyes alight. If Alex didn't know better, she'd think they were both high, instead of only hours away from transformation.

"Oi Hal - brilliant!" Tom immediately took down plates from the cupboard and Hal handed him the spoon.

"How did it go last night?" Hal asked.

"You know," Allison began conversationally while reaching for Tom's offered plate. "I was never much of one for athletics. I still made my marks, of course, but running…" She shook her head and held her plate out for Tom to serve. Hal huffed a laugh and Alex smiled. She had seen Allison run. "With the pack though?" Allison continued, unperturbed. "It's different. Quite natural, really."

"Yeh, tis grande," Tom said as he dished heaping mounds of pasta. "There's really something to it. Like, we were s'posed to work together and all."

"Did you convince them of our placement strategy?" Hal asked as he removed the sachet from his brewing cup of tea, then untied and removed his apron.

"Yeah. They didn't have much of a plan 'cept to show up. Milo suggested we all lay low today. And I told em of the gates and cameras, like we talked 'bout. We're to be in teams."

Tom and Allison sat down at the kitchen table with massive mounds of pasta. Hal cupped his tea and sat down opposite. His fork was poised, but before digging in, Tom paused. "There weren't any way around it," he levelled Hal with a serious look. "We're on the east, like we wanted, but… We're with Irving and Christa."

"Christa already knows," Alex said, dropping off the counter to join them all at the table. "Well, that the Department exists anyways."

"And Irving I can handle," Tom assured. "Did you go by the park?"

Hal shook his head. "Wasn't necessary. Milo brought the news to us. He wanted to know if I had something to do with it, of course. Rook shut the entire area down. They've sent everyone to King's Square while Heddlu sorts out a bomb threat. Assuming the Department _does_ have control, the perimeter of the park will remain clear."

"Milo came here?" Tom asked, between mouthfuls. "But we've been so careful not to lead -"

"He knew all along. He was Snow's watchdog, after all."

Tom made an unpleasant face, "Not creepy at all, innit?"

"It is not as if we ever believed Milo was trustworthy," Hal said, then sipped his tea. "What I would like to know is why you still haven't heard from the Lobisomem. It is suspiciously odd that not one has turned up, even though they apparently instigated this whole thing."

"But did they?" Alex asked, spinning an empty mug between her fingers. "I mean, Davi confirmed that it was possible, but he left his pack before any of this. How do we really know it all wasn't just cooked up by Milo himself?"

"We don't," Hal agreed. "Except if it is Milo, he isn't working alone."

"Who then?" Allison said curiously, then took another bite. The steam from the pasta had slightly fogged up her eyeglasses, but she didn't seem to mind.

"That is precisely what I hope to find out. Tonight."

Tom lowered his fork, then looked to Alex. "You sure you'll get him out? I'm all for killing vampires, but I _really_ don't want to wake up tomorrow having ate me best mate."

"Trust me. I am SO ghost-busting our shite outta there," Alex answered with a smirk. "I _really_ don't want to catch hide nor hair of either of you all wolfy."

Tom glanced to Allison and she stared back at him, then blatantly took another bite. He swallowed. "Allison, I really would rather -"

Allison put down her fork. "If you think for one minute Tom McNair that you can stop me, then you very well haven't been paying attention, have you?"

Hal just raised an eyebrow when Tom looked to him for help. "Don't you think it's goin'ta be dangerous for us tonight? I mean, if Rook fails we could all be caught. Or worse."

"Are you seriously shitting me?" Alex lowered her magazine. "If you really think Allison is turning in the cellar, then you're more medieval than Hal."

"I'm not medieval," Hal retorted calmly, then finished his tea.

Allison took Tom's hands as he furrowed his brow, looking stumped. "Look, I know you would rather see me here, safe. I understand. I really do. But don't you realise? It's the same for me. Locked up here, waiting to change and all the while not knowing what was happening? Not knowing if YOU were safe? I'm coming. We'll just have to manage to look out for one another is all."

Tom's eyebrows met, obviously worried. Allison just smiled and patted his hand reassuringly under the table.

"Along those lines," Hal said, interrupting the moment that passed between their friends. "I would rather neither of us have our vehicles near the scene. In the off chance this does go public, then the less evidence to connect us to it, the better."

Allison glanced back to Hal, then down to her half empty plate. "We should hurry along then.'

Hal nodded then stood, placing his tea cup in the sink. He put the lid back on the pasta and rummaged for a storage container while Tom and Allison finished eating. Alex looked away. Watching Hal tidy up was better than wishing she could join their housemates with dinner. But given the morning, maybe further explorations of 'taste' would be possible. Hal had declined to eat, but maybe when they returned home. _If they returned home_. Alex shook the thought aside and stood, taking her mug to the sink as well.

Tom and Allison finished eating, placed their plates in the sink, then dashed upstairs to change clothes. Hal was about to start in on the dishes, but Alex came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. He rested a hand on her arm and leaned into her.

"Do you trust Rook?" she asked.

"I believe his motives are genuine."

"And the werewolves?"

"Are in over their heads. They will be none too pleased when they come-to in the woods tomorrow morning. Better disappointed than dead however."

Alex hugged him, resting her nose on the back of his neck. A moment passed until the sounds of Tom and Allison trodding back down the stairs broke them apart.

As they readied to leave, Alex noticed that Rook's pistol sat on the backside of the bar, discarded. No one made motions to take it, so Alex picked it up. It was lighter than it looked, designed to propel something other than a bullet. Hal glanced back at her and she raised the weapon with a question. "You aren't taking this?"

"I've dealt with werewolves plenty of times without such assistance. Besides, we will not be around to use it. You're teleporting us out."

"Yeah, but…" Alex paused awkwardly. How could she explain this dead _dread_ she was feeling for them all? Richard's warning about the department's priorities repeated in her mind. "I'd feel better if you had it, is all."

Hal stepped close, his eyes searching hers. She knew he was well aware how much werewolves still frightened her, which was probably the only reason he acquiesced. After a pause, he took the pistol from her hands, then tucked it casually into the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Let's go."


	32. Auribus Teneo Lupum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from Whimsyfox & TJ4ev enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _It has been a month since my last update, for which I extend sincere apologies. Real life doesn't always work out the way we wish. Good thing there is fic. Reviews are love, and we're all going to need a little bit of it at the end of this chapter..._
> 
> * * *

The road had been blockaded, but the blockade was un-manned. Blinking yellow hazard lights pulsed the darkening night away with a cautionary warning that went unheeded. Approaching the turn-about at the end of the road, Alex noticed that all the oversized car park spots normally reserved for tour coaches and the like, were empty. The whole area was uncannily deserted. Even the train had been waylaid, the station cordoned off. She wondered what the gathering werewolves would think. She wondered how many of them would still come here to turn, given the earlier bomb warning.

Allison and Tom walked hand in hand, both wearing loose, expendable clothing. Allison had chosen pyjama bottoms - black, with little green rainforest frogs that mocked the seriousness of the evening. They had taken the side streets without talking much, and once they crossed Maslin Park, they hushed entirely. Hal and Tom were both keenly aware of their surroundings; casting their senses and prepared for attack, or police intervention. But none came. They reached Station Approach road without incident. Hal gave a nod to Tom, then their group split ways. Allison and Tom were to meet up with Christa and Irving at the dodgems. Alex and Hal were to take another approach.

The hillock of grass east of the park, with house lights dotting beyond, seemed innocently empty as well, but Alex knew better. Ahead, the public convenience building was darkened, and the ice cream stand next to it was all boarded up. Everything was closed for the season. The silhouette of the pavillion stood out against the slate grey of the water beyond. Alex could smell the salt of the bay, but she couldn't hear it. The only interruption to the calm night came from the distant barking of some far-off dog. The rising moon, mostly obscured by clouds, did little to light the way. A strange, low fog hugged the ground and Alex wondered if it was somehow a trick of Rook's department.

Nearing the end of the park wall, Hal quickly scanned the surrounding area, then approached the small service gate. He turned to Alex with a ready tilt of his head and she stepped in close. Preparing to teleport them in, she reached up to cup the back of his neck, but he stopped her. Hal caught her hand and held it, then met her eyes.

"What?" she smiled.

A slight answering smile played at the corners of his eyes before he kissed her. The moment swept her up and set fire to their spark; she could have stayed right there on the street all night - but he pulled away.

"For luck," he answered, then squeezed her hand. Alex took a deep breath, savouring her sense of him, then rested her forehead against his.

Before he even blinked, she rent-a-ghosted them to the other side of the gate.

* * *

 _Not another one_ , he thought, before stepping out of the shadows. The people who normally visited the area were simple enough to spot - they were the only ones attempting to frequent the darkened and shut establishment. Boldly walking the pavement as opposed to the furtive and fleeting shadows that avoided him, the drunk was humming obliviously to himself. His startlement was further confused by the quick wave of Heddlu credentials. Mike Nave had to give his department credit; the badge was real.

"You've to turn back I'm afraid. This whole area is shut down."

"But -" the man slurred in protest.

"There's a pub open on High Street. I suggest you head that way."

Just as with the last patron, the drunk looked as if he was about to ask questions - _What is this? What happened?_ \- when a strange calm passed his face.

"Where'd you say again?"

As the man ambled off, Nave gave a nod to the empty air. "Thanks Maggie."

* * *

This was normally the part Allison had come to loathe. Not the change itself, with its unfathomable pain, but the _waiting_ for it. She would watch the moon climb in the sky, heavy with the burden of knowing that every moment was building towards that first spasm; the first wave of losing control.

Her second turning, she had timed it. She paced her symptoms against tide tables and lunar charts to keep her mind occupied while she waited. Until twenty minutes before the moon reached it's highest peak in the sky, she felt utterly fine. More than fine, even - she had felt really, _really_ good. Energized. But that was when it would start. Twenty minutes out and the first cramping wave would flash, sending chills through her body like a fever. It would pass quickly, yet her stomach would tighten into knots with clenching anticipation. In a few short minutes the sporadic cramping would return and she would be _far_ from fine. She had put on bravado for Tom, sure as the rest of the werewolves had.

And yet, Allison was quickly finding that this was better than waiting. She wasn't watching the clock. She wasn't frozen in anticipation. She could feel the oncoming change, but she let it fuel her rather than frighten. She could harness the energy of it - that primal pulse of power rippling under the surface. She could see it in Irving and Christa as they stood nearby, poised shoulder to shoulder and casting their senses to the air. The wolf was timeless. It ran through each of them, yet each of them ran _with_ it _._ She could feel by sound and scent where every one of her comrades were. _Her Pack_.

And Tom. Her love. He met her eyes and gave a perceptive smile. He could tell she had _gotten_ it. She understood now why and _how_ he and McNair could have done what they did for so long. Taking action was far better than the alternative. She wondered if they could find another way to channel their energy when there wasn't a fight. To run together, feral. Or to make love right until the change forced them apart. She wondered at the mystery of Eve and why there weren't more children of werewolves for that very reason.

She returned Tom's smile with an enthusiastic one of her own. If Rook didn't intervene and separate them as he claimed, Allison wondered if they'd find out. Her calmness over the thought surprised her. A year ago, the very idea of an unplanned pregnancy would have been unfathomable. There were her studies, scholarships, debate team duties and her Duke of Edinburgh Award; even dating had been out of the question. Until the wolf had changed absolutely everything, that is. Once she accepted what she had become, her text books may have been chew toys for all they mattered. Her chosen life was over. At least, that was what she thought before she met Tom.

With the exception of this one day of the month, they really _could_ be human. As long as the mission tonight was successful and the supernatural world remained secret, she could still pursue her studies. With some strategic scheduling, her career was entirely plausible. The idea of a family wasn't that far removed. She already knew Tom would be a fantastic father. The way he had looked after Eve with such joy and delight was unwavering. If an accident _were_ to happen between them, she didn't doubt that he would support her, with whatever it took. Both her practical, human side, as well as the stirring preferences of the wolf, were aligned in how she felt about Tom McNair. Maybe that was why something that had previously been a grave concern, was no longer. She already knew that she could spend the rest of her life with this remarkable person.

Just as she could sense her Pack, Allison knew Hal and Alex were standing close and alert beyond the shadows of the dodgems, in wait for the next wave of attack to come their way. In a quick moment of clarity, she could appreciate how far they _all_ had come. This was where she belonged. In school, she had excelled, had been respected and admired by her teachers, but she was always a step apart from her peers. But not now. In her supernatural life, she had found challenge, belonging and love. In their own way, Hal and Alex were each quite remarkable as well. As a household, the four of them fit together. As a household, their oddities weren't so odd.

And they worked mighty fine together as a team, she might add. Another taunting pair of vampires, dressed in full, protective leather like the last few had been, slunk in from around the concessions counter. One immediately engaged Irving and Christa, but the other had fallen for the easy-target lure of Allison, standing apart. His youthful grin was wicked when he charged. However what he obviously thought would be an easy fight, was anything but. With a wave of unseen power, Alex, hidden, propelled the vampire away from Allison. Tom caught the leather-clad vampire by the shoulder, landing a hearty punch to his jaw. The vampire roared.

As they grappled, Tom maneuvered them towards the waiting shadows. With one well placed kick the vampire stumbled - and was caught by Hal. Pure shock bloomed across their prey's face in recognition that a fellow vampire was attacking him, just before Hal bashed the blunt end of a stake into his temple.

As the vampire dropped, Christa shouted through an ashy dust cloud, "Another one? How many do these people bloody need?"

Hal bent down to lift the fallen vampire's shoulders and Alex grabbed his feet. "As many as we can," he answered distractedly as they hoisted the body between them and retreated back into the shadows. They were gathering the unconscious vampires behind the Roman statues at the closed entry gate. An operative, hidden above on the roof of the neighboring restaurant, ensured that they remained unconscious.

Christa just shrugged, but Irving shook his head, still bewildered with it all. The young Irishman had wanted to retreat to find his sire and tell him the real plan, but Tom had convinced him not to. Word of the plan spreading now could jeopardize all of their safety, and there wasn't time to change anything. Tom had promised Irving that they would all be safe, and that he could fill Gwedore in on the truth come morning. Conal Gwedore would be disappointed, Tom was certain. He had wanted the confrontation, and the subsequent reveal to the world nearly as much as Milo.

The sounds of fighting spanned from across the park and the small break in their area was short-lived. A staccato of multiple running footsteps preceded the gang of vampires that turned the corner. Fangs bared, their eyes blackened at the sight of them all waiting in a ready stance. The toothy grins made it clear that they thought the werewolves were outnumbered, but would soon find the error. Tom leapt into the fight with an answering smirk and Christa followed suit. The girl was actually quite the natural - within moments she stood catching her breath over another ashen heap.

They were only capturing the ones they could get on their own, so for this round, Hal and Alex charged out of the shadows. Alex propelled one of the two vampires fighting Tom away to tumble and fall. Hal caught the shoulder of another then doubled him over with a swift knee to the groin.

As they grappled, the younger vampire clearly losing, Allison caught that Hal's expression had turned puzzled. He caught the man in a headlock, holding him while he sputtered and kicked.

"This isn't right," Hal shouted over the fray.

"Eh?" Alex blocked another that was nearly upon Irving, who was already battling a nasty looking fellow with a chain. The vampire snarled and took the offensive to come after her. With a knowing smile that she could send him sailing, Alex let him. Teasingly, she jumped up to the dodgem platform. "Oi! Come 'n' speil!"

"What's not right?" Tom shouted back behind another ashen cloud.

"These vampires," Hal said, pausing with a grimace to forcefully stake the man he was holding. "They're mercenaries. Hired."

"How can you tell?" Allison asked as Hal dropped the cracking vampire, who shattered apart when he hit the pavement. Hal looked up, but didn't get a chance to answer.

"Look out!" Hal shouted the warning. Allison suddenly had two at once! She whirled, her stake raised. One of the vampires was yanked backwards, sent to crash into the brightly colored wall of the Dodgems. With relief, Allison realized that Alex had given her cover. But then the ghost's own assailant had caught up to her and threw a punch - that _landed_ , sending her staggering. Hal leapt up after them, and Allison was left to contend with the brutish fellow that remained on her own.

She whirled to face her opponent with what she hoped was an ominous expression, but he was closer than she thought. With practical smoothness, he lassoed a cable around her neck and drew her close. Allison's hand went to the binding that was already too tight for purchase.

In one snatched moment, all the details became alarmingly clear. The piercings dotting the sneer of the man's face as he twisted the cable into one hand. The missing button of his jacket has he pried the stake from her fingers. And the instant realisation that her windpipe was about to be crushed.

Until a sharp _thwunk!_ made the pressure on her throat slacken, that is.

Allison, flabbergasted, watched the pupils of her strangler's eyes dilate. He looked down to his chest where the bloodied, wooden tip of a bolt shaft protruded. Winded and flustered, Allison sputtered as the cable dropped heavily to her shoulders. Her assailant cracked and crumbled, coming apart into cinders.

Shakily, she pulled the cable free and bent forward to retrieve her stake, then straightened to peer out into the darkened night. The wooden bolt had come from the far hill, beyond the park. One of the operatives must be hidden in the grasses. They _were_ protecting them, as Mr. Rook had claimed they would. Allison raised her stake to the air in salute with a relieved grin, then turned back into the fight.

Tom had just ended the vampire he had been combatting in his attempt to reach Allison. He caught his breath with relief to see her unharmed, then glanced towards Alex & Hal. A cloud of dust floated in the air around them as they rested, foreheads touching. Tom quickly looked towards Irving who was alright as well. Christa was brushing silty powder off her sleeve.

Allison cleared her throat, rubbing her bruised neck as Tom reached out for her. As if to clear any lingering doubt to her well being, she returned to her previous question to Hal. "What did you mean, they're mercenaries?"

Hal pulled apart from Alex and answered simply, "It's too consistent. They're all young."

"That's crackers," Tom dismissed. "Loads of vamps look -"

"Newly _made_. Cannon fodder," Hal elaborated.

"And here I thought they were just dodgers," Allison shrugged, looking around at the white ash heaps littering the pavement.

"Jaysus," Irving exclaimed. "Who would turn people vampires, just to get dusted?"

"Who indeed," Hal answered, pensively unsettled.

Another vampire turned the corner, saw the piles of empty clothes around their little group and her eyes widened. She turned to retreat and Irving scoffed. "Leg-it if you know what's good fer ye!"

From across the park someone cried out, and sporadic crashes, footsteps and scuffles were heard. The sounds of fighting hadn't seemed to ebb at all over the last half hour. Both Irving and Christa cocked their heads, listening. Hal paused, head tilted as well. His attention wasn't into the afar battle, but behind them.

"What is it? _More_?" Alex asked, peering into the stillness between parked service vehicles, following Hal's gaze.

"Milo," Hal's answer was confident as he stepped down from the dodgems and extended his hand to Alex. "He's near. Let us see what he is up to, shall we?"

Tom raised his eyebrows in question, still clutching his stake, but Hal shook his head. "Stay here, for now."

Tom furrowed his brow, like he wanted to argue, but Hal was already headed off to the fleet of service lorries. Alex glanced back to Allison and Tom, then followed Hal. As they crept out from behind the convenience booth, his footsteps fell with a practised softness, which Alex tried to mimic. Most of the people present could hear her. They headed back towards the gate where they had entered.

Hal stopped, motionless in front of a lorry, listening - then Alex heard it too. Hal held his finger to his lips, and hugged his back to the frame of the lorry, edging closer. The whisper-low murmur of Milo's voice could just barely be made out, " - nearly out of time. I say we go over there."

Another voice, with an unplaceable familiarity, answered, "With all of them? No."

Hal edged closer, and Alex caught his shoulder, making him turn to look at her. She implored him silently to be careful. She knew he would be, but something in the hushed tones made her stomach drop. Hal met her eyes, holding their gaze for one small moment. He knew. With a bare nod, he acknowledged her care, then slipped free. He inched closer to the edge of the lorry, then swiftly stole a glance around the corner. A flash of surprise was evident on his face when he turned back. Alex raised an eyebrow, questioning, but Hal shook his head. After a contemplative pause, he strode boldly out of hiding.

Milo immediately pivoted, his body language defensive, but then his lip curled up at Hal's entrance. "Well _well._ Guess you were right after all," he said rather smugly to his sandy haired companion. They stood in front of the open panel door of an empty lorry. The lanky frame of the man wearing a trench coat struck her as familiar. Still, Alex couldn't believe it, until he turned.

Jonathan Castle gave Hal a knowing smile, "And so the pieces fall."

"Wait - you two know each other?" Alex couldn't help but ask.

"The ghost just asked if we know each other," Milo laughed, repeating to Castle. "Oh, honey."

"What is this? You're with the Department?" Hal asked Milo.

"Not... _exactly_ ," Milo delayed from answering with a smile.

"You knew," Hal stated, then tilted his head and Alex felt something… shift. The small benefit of doubt he had granted Milo, was gone. He hadn't moved, but suddenly Hal's stance was menacing. Deadly.

"Hal?" she uttered, unsure of what he had picked up on. Why had Milo come to warn Hal off if he already knew of the Department? If he was in with Castle, then surely he would have known the Department would stop the fight from going too far.

With one step Hal launched into the offensive to confront Milo. Castle staggered backwards, away from them both. His eyes widened with as much surprise as hers. Alex glanced at the young operative, wondering what the hell was going on, but was drawn instead into the immediacy of the fight.

Milo dodged Hal's swing, shifted his weight, then threw a punch, which Hal caught. Holding the larger man's fist, he twisted until Milo was forced to twist away. He spun, sending a kick as he did, catching Hal's ankle. But Hal only used the momentum to carry his weight forward.

They landed with a huff against the lorry and with a fast smack, Hal struck a punch to Milo's face. Whiplashed, the larger man's head rocked back and hit the metal sidewall with a clang. Hal pinned Milo's arm as the werewolf blinked, testing his jaw. Alex watched, bewildered, but waited for an unobstructed angle to help, if necessary.

Milo threw up a knee, which Hal dodged. But it was merely a feint to capture the arm Hal raised for balance. The fight of strength between them was brief. Milo was a werewolf nearing the change, and Alex could see that he was proving stronger than Hal. Aiming her focus, she leant her strength, sending force through Hal's arm, and it _worked_. Milo's arm hit the metal sidewall with a crack and an outcry.

In the process of helping Hal, she had lost her attention on Castle. The operative had stepped close, reaching forward in what Alex thought was a motion to help Hal, except that Milo's grimace gave way to a quick flash of relief. Castle had pulled a short stake from his pocket as he seized Hal's shoulder. He pressed the point of sharpened wood into Hal's back without any semblance of friendliness.

"Let him go," Castle demanded. Shocked at the sight of the stake, Alex wavered in her force, but Hal still kept Milo pinned. The werewolf was catching his breath and staring down Hal intently as Castle threatened. The man's posture with the stake was smug, pushing only lightly against the leather of Hal's jacket.

"All we had to do was pique that curiosity," Milo jeered. "You played _right_ into it."

Castle tutted disapprovingly, then leaned in to whisper. "You're to leave with me. Right now."

"Why would I do that?" Hal answered calmly.

"Because, if you don't come with me quietly, you'll end up dead. And that would be most unfortunate. Some here have another mission than just playing with werewolves."

Alex dropped her focus from Milo, and sent all of her power into propelling Castle's stake away. But… nothing happened. Either Jonathan Castle had anticipated her onslaught, or he was somehow able to block her. His hand on the stake was unshakable.

"Well," Hal answered, keeping his focus intently on Milo as he seemed to deliberate. "It's too bad your angle is wrong."

"Oi!" Tom announced himself just as Hal, using his grip on Milo as leverage, bashed his head backwards into Castle's face. Castle staggered, which was all the opening Hal needed to clear the stake, let go of Milo, and turn. Tom leapt into the combat with enthusiasm.

"This isn't your fight slayer," Milo spat, dodging Tom.

"That's me mate you and he are threatenin'," Tom snarled, then slammed into Milo. With thundering precision, the two men pit against each other. But Alex's attention was on the lethal stillness of Hal.

Stake raised, Castle used the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his nose. The motion did little good. There was blood in his teeth when grinned.

Hal looked away, fully turning his head and closing his eyes. Castle huffed a nasally laugh, "Oh, now there's a bother," glancing to the blood on his hand. "The only humans anywhere near are ones you're _supposed_ to be helping," he chuckled, but Hal didn't move. In an instant, Alex was beside him. She took his hand in hers and tried to lend him strength. He could fight this. He already had proven that he could.

Hal felt Alex's telekinesis course through, rooting him to the spot. Minuscule traces of human blood was on the air, but the contact amplified _her_ heartbeat against Castle's. _Her_ blood, so near, so desired and illusioned, against the reality of another's. _Blood_. Eyes closed, Hal channelled his focus to the safe familiarity of Alex. The warmth of her hand. _Blood_. The steadiness of her pulse. _Blood._ Her scent. _Blood_. It happened so quickly. Always so quickly. The salivating pressure against his fangs mounted.

Castle tried another approach, with a glance to where Tom & Milo grappled. "Safe passage is right there. The choice is yours." The youth leveled Hal with a curious look, then, _gloating_ , he added, "Do you see what that choice is yet?"

Alex gave a worried glance between the both of them, as Hal tightened his grip on her hand. He swallowed, his eyes darkening as he stared into the cavernous cargo hold Castle had indicated. _Whose side was Castle on, exactly?_ But then, Castle took a step forward - _towards_ the struggling vampire. "Let me guess," he taunted. "In another time, I'd already be dead." Hal's eyes flashed back to Castle's face, and the blood trickling down. "Lucky me."

Castle dropped low to charge, pummeling into Hal with his shoulder and Alex cried out. Hal's hand slipped from her fingers as he fell backwards, at first seemingly in an attempt to _refuse_ the fight. But when they hit the pavement, she watched with a sinking feeling as his instinct took over. In a feral flash of white, Hal's fangs dropped.

Hal rolled clear, then came to his feet as Castle started to push himself up, still clutching his stake. But Hal didn't let him rise. He kicked Castle in the ribs, dropping him back to the ground with a painful sounding _oof_. Hal dropped to his haunches, but Castle raised the stake over his head in defense.

"You can't," he wheezed, then spit blood. "I'll be your undoing."

Hal's only answer was to take the lapels of the operative's coat in fists, and haul him upright. He shoved Castle backwards to slam hard into the metal wall of a cargo hold.

"Ugh!" Castle managed, the air knocked out of him, before Hal pinned him to the wall.

"You did this." Hal stated flatly. " _Why_?"

The way he said it chilled Alex. A dream of _fire, hot and close, and Carl, tortured…_ Dazed, Castle didn't answer. Hal caught him by both wrists, then then bashed him back into the metal with a thud. The violence of it made Alex jump.

"Why?" Hal asked again, slowly increasing the force against Castle's hands. The stake clattered to the pavement with a wooden clunk. Jon Castle's breath quickened, but he did not answer. His stance was as if he didn't have to answer. Almost as if he were awaiting an intervention.

Tom had spun away from Milo, eyes widening at Hal's handling of the young operative. "Hal," he cautioned, and Milo took that moment to back away. When Tom whipped his attention to his opponent, the big man had bolted into a run back towards the open lorry. Castle's eyes followed Milo with a hint of expectancy.

Alex didn't think, she just acted. Her power may have been blocked from Castle somehow, but Milo tripped, sprawling forward. Tom lunged after him just as Castle cried out in pain, and Alex lashed her attention back to Hal.

"Who are you working for if not Rook?" Hal demanded, predatory, threatening with fangs exposed as the man before him quivered from the shock of a snapped wrist. But then, shakily, Castle _laughed._

"Rook can go to Hell. I'm working for _me_." Then, he _spit._ A spatter of blood hit Hal in the face. Immediately, his eyes seethed a vampiric black.

_Oh, shite_ , Alex thought as she rent-a-ghosted to stand between Hal and Castle. Hal's body language had changed. She could see the struggle, but she could also see that he was losing. Hal pushed Castle's arms down and tilted his head forward, fangs flashing, but she intervened and caught him by the shoulder. Hal tensed in the pause.

_One breath. Two_.

Whether Hal had stopped himself or not, Castle's focus had shifted. He was no longer looking at the threatening vampire about to tear into him, but above. Alex followed the line of his eyes to a silhouette, poised in aim on the far roof. A pale glint of blonde, the sight of a crossbow, and a man who could only see _part_ of the struggle. Alex deduced what it looked like in one, horrendous instant - she opened her mouth to scream - to shout a warning - to _stop it_ -

But it was too late.

In one sailing _thwack_! of irreversible judgement, it was over.

The metal sidewall was the only thing keeping Jonathan Castle's battered form upright. Hal had let him go. Like an obscene cartoon, something that _shouldn't_ be there, was there. Hal looked down to his chest in disbelief to where a wooden shaft was protruding.

Jonathan had a reconciled expression, almost saddened. "I couldn't let them have you," he whispered.

The scream ripped out of her from somewhere deep.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _AURIBUS TENEO LUPUM, "holding a wolf by the ears," is a line taken from Phormio (c.161BC), a work by the Roman playwright Terence. Once a popular proverb in Ancient Rome, like "holding a tiger by the tail," it is used to describe an unsustainable situation. In particular, one in which both doing nothing and doing something to resolve it are equally risky._
> 
> _*The transformation timing that Allison mentions is directly taken from observations in season 3, episode 1._
> 
> * _Come 'n' speil is Scottish for come and play. Or so I've been told_.
> 
> _Soundtrack inspiration of Alt-J, Tessellate & Rage Against the Machine, Testify._


	33. Zugzwang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from Whimsyfox & TJ4ev enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal. Extra thanks on this one._
> 
>  
> 
> _To everyone who reached out on the last chapter, you have my sincere thanks. I always love to hear what you think, even if it is just along the lines of "OMG please please update soon!" I never meant to leave that one hanging for long, so without further ado..._
> 
> * * *

Time did not move backwards in death for Hal Yorke. There was no descending spiral of memory to white light or flaming pits.

No.

Time blossomed _forward_.

 _-one-  
_ The scream ripped out of Alex Millar from somewhere deep. The far reaches of her soul were scattering - blowing apart in unholy terror. Hal slumped into her arms. One breath, a slow motion exhale as a great heat built. She clutched cast iron. She clung to a fire.

No!

 _-two-  
_ A biting coldness growing outwards in a creeping frost. Tiny icicles spanning and hardening the blood and mud of battlefield. Snowflakes and lonely trees against a flat, grey sky.

Death blossomed forward from a terrible accident of mortality and spiraled into eternity. For five frighteningly cruel centuries, death danced close. Sometimes leading, often following. Death, oh death… She had been a glorious mistress.

 _-three-  
_ Ghostly force exuded the wooden shaft from Hal's chest and she flung it aside. Expelling the bolt was a hopeless effort, she knew. There was no stopping this. Distantly, she was aware of a scuffle. Tom was breaking free of his fight with Milo… and Maggie was there, helping him.

It all fell away.

Hal's eyes, hazel depths in deepening green met hers for the briefest of eternities. Softly shocked and pliant-peaceful, the moment of astoundment was a flicker and gone. In one short instant, _all_ of it was gone. All of his hope, all of their possibility. _She hadn't even told him_ … Hal was coming apart in hairpin cracks.  
 _No-no-no-no-no-no-no!_

Alex held on with every shred of herself she had left. Hal was wet sand in a tide, flowing away no matter how fast she tried to grasp and rake to keep hold.

This couldn't be. _This can't be_.

He was giving out from under her, capsizing, so Alex pulled a buoyant sphere of force around them; a containment of desperate, pleading strength. She held her palm over the wound of his heart as if somehow she could keep his life from fissuring out.

In the span of that one breath, to his last, a light flared outwards, white-hot and blinding.

 _-four-  
_ Death was a glorious mistress. The _finality_ of it all was a strange comfort. To finally be free from death, in death.

And yet…

And, _yet._..

Destiny, it seemed, wasn't yet ready to let him go.

Snatched from death yet again, Hal Yorke was lifted up and up into spreading warmth. Blown to the winds, pulled by the tides, hugged to the earth and consumed by fire.

An anchor, caught.

 _-five-  
_ Tom knew that sound. He'd heard it hundreds of times. He immediately stopped. Shoved Milo away. His mate - his _best mate_ \- was cracking apart. Tom froze as if he was the one who'd been shot through the heart. Hal couldn't just die, he -

 _He was_.

Alex was there and she caught him, holding him upright. She flung the deadly wood away and blood erupted, the spatter striking vivid against her hands before the vampire curse tore Hal apart.

They didn't even get to say goodbye…

And _yet_ …

It wasn't just that the whole world had slipped into slow motion.

It was taking _too long_.

 _-six-  
_ Alex caught the thread and held tight -

That piece of herself hooked in him -

That shard of being that was not affected by the vampire curse -

She could feel it, white-hot, buffered… and untangling. It was leaving him, panicked and fleeing to come back to her. To hold that thread was to fight a force eighty times stronger than herself.

 _-seven-  
_ Tom knew that a vampire could shift to ash nearly instantly if they'd had a good fight leading up to it. The ones caught by surprise would lag - as if it took the body a moment to recognize the damage.

But even with that, it was taking too long. A piercing white light, bright as from beyond a Door, flared out of Alex where her palm covered Hal's heart. Her eyes glowed haunted, determined and ultra-violet.

Tom had seen a ghost look like that just one time before. Tom had seen it when Annie got rid of Kirby.

He turned to the ghost at his side, but Maggie shook her head. She watched, just as bewildered as he.

White light flickered at the edges, and a ghostly static whipped into wind - a tornado of debris and autumn leaves spiraled. Alex held Hal at the center.

 _-eight-  
_ She called to that untangling, fiery piece of herself, and it answered - a tenuous yet tenacious thing. She raised it _up_ to where his heart had been pierced, just under her palm. Then, she held it there. White-hot and buffered, it sunk like ink in water, like a burnt brand.

She could not hold on any further.

There wasn't anything left to hold on to.

The piece of herself - that discarded piece of her soul rooted in him and _flared_. As fragile as rice paper in a bonfire, it was consumed. Their thread caught in him, and the line pulled taut.

 _-nine-  
_ Tom watched, just as bewildered as Maggie. The wind ceased, and Alex's flickering edge of light shrank quickly to her arm, then her hand, then faded out. The stark, terrible darkness of spots in his vision was all that remained. Mundane street light through fog, the world stepped back into place, and Hal - still impossibly _here_ \- collapsed into Alex.

* * *

Her strength died with the light. She couldn't keep herself upright, much less Hal. The world came crashing back into place as the dead weight of a fully _solid_ vampire knocked her down. They slumped together ungracefully to the ground, but she didn't care. With the weariness of a marathon runner, all she could focus on at first was that she had done it. Hal was still _here_.

Slowly, Alex became aware that Tom had dropped down next to them. Castle was propped against the boot of the lorry, clutching his arm with his head tipped back in an attempt to stem his bloody nose. Maggie watched him warily. He looked _through_ the old ghost to Alex with an outright livid expression. At first, Alex couldn't even register the fact that he could see her.

"Alex?" Tom's worried voice broke as he kneeled next to them, bringing her scattered attention back. Tentatively, he reached out to touch Hal. He patted his friend on the shoulder, repeatedly, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "You a'ight there?" he asked her, his voice coming out as shaky as she felt.

"I... don't know," Alex stammered. She was exhausted, worn thin, but Hal was beyond pale. His skin was porcelain, broken, with dark lines under the surface. Blood pooled, slick and spreading across the pavement, a darkness against the black.

She could feel it. Hal wasn't healing fast enough, or he couldn't heal fast enough. She had saved his heart, but she hadn't yet saved _him_. She knew she was taking on his blood as she tried vainly to stop the flow. She knew that was why Castle was watching her.

With quick and decisive action, Tom peeled off his jumper, wadding it into a tight compress and pressed it down. "Here, keep it here," he said, his words rushed. Sounds of the fight raged around the corner, an entire world away.

"I can't-" she gasped, her strength flickering. She tried to "taste" from Hal through touch, and could feel the fragile hold he had. Her sense of him was utterly gone. What she stopped… was only paused. Hal needed to heal, and he needed to heal _now_. "Tom - your knife. I need your knife."

Tom cocked his head, questioning. He had to intervene in London afterall, pinning Hal down before the vampire could drain her completely. But then he squared his jaw and nodded, reaching into his pocket for the balisong he always carried. Passing it over, he took the compress from her and placed a hand on Hal's shoulder in preparation.

Alex flicked open the blade and didn't hesitate. She closed her fist around the metal and slashed, gasping with the stab of pain. Wincing, she opened her palm and covered Hal's mouth, forcing it open.

And... nothing. Alex checked to make sure she was actually bleeding. Hal's lips were smeared with blood, but he didn't swallow. He did not move. Already, her self-inflicted wound was fading, ghosting away, so she sliced again - at her wrist this time. "Hal come on! Please!" she screamed with desperation.

"He's dead without blood," Castle barbed from a distance. Alex wondered why the hell he was still here, but then saw Maggie's stance of concentration focused on her fellow operative.

Tom grasped Alex's shoulder, fingers pinching her hard as he reached across Hal. "You already saved him. Now keep saving him," he said, then abruptly let go as his muscles tensed. Alarmingly, Tom gritted his teeth as his spine spasmed straight. The first wave of the change passed just as quickly as it had come, but he didn't have much more time left. He caught his breath, then made to stand to face Castle. Alex held her futile wrist against Hal's lips for a moment longer, then pocketed the knife to use both hands on the makeshift compress with meager strength.

Before he could even register what he sensed, Tom's body language shifted as he stood. He turned his fighting stance away from Jon Castle, to face the unknown approach. Dominic Rook, crossbow aimed and ready as he walked, stepped out from behind a lorry. Tom's anger turned murderous. _After all they'd done to help, how could he just_ _assume and_ -

But Rook froze.

Leveling Tom with his calculating gaze, he lowered the weapon with focused intention. Tom didn't change his hostile stance, but paused. Rook quickly took in the scene, then locked his eyes on Tom. Weapon pointed away, but keeping eye contact, he slowly came forward to approach Castle. After a quick assessment of his operative's condition, Rook returned his gaze to Tom with a raised eyebrow.

"Your bloke ain't who you think he is," Tom broke the tense silence, preceding the question in Rook's eyes.

"Bullshit," Castle spat. "You should have kept a tighter leash on your mate McNair. He was about to kill me."

"No he weren't! He was about to get the truth outta ya," Tom declared and took a threatening step forward. Rook tensed, tightening his grip on the crossbow, and Tom growled with frustration, then pointed at Castle. "He was with that Milo and Hal caught them!"

"Milo is being apprehended. He will not be allowed to leave the park," Rook replied calmly, producing a pale grey handkerchief and handing it to Castle.

"Hal wasn't goin'ta kill him," Tom reiterated, softer this time, as if he was already second guessing what he saw. "He was trying to stop him."

"I believe you lad," Maggie Dan nodded, her focus still intent on Jon Castle. "He's hiding something in that noggin. Don't you fret. We'll get to the bottom of it."

"There are many unanswered questions, but now is not the time. We mustn't remain here," Rook said as his gaze fell on Hal's still form, then returned to Castle. Extending a hand, he asked his operative, "Can you walk?"

Castle nodded, but before taking Rook's offered support, he glanced down to Hal & Alex. "You never miss," he muttered to Rook.

"Well, apparently I'm human," Rook belittled the statement, then pulled at the youth to come along, like an errant child.

"You didn't," Alex stated weakly, and Rook paused. "You didnae miss."

The blonde man regarded her, piercing eyes narrowing, then flicking to Hal. "There will be time to discuss this later," Rook said, as the distant sound of fighting seemed to draw closer, but Alex vehemently shook her head.

"Hal doesn't have till later," Alex glared at Rook fiercely, accusingly. _Damaged, beyond the body's ability to heal…_ She could feel how tenuous it was. The hold Hal had was gossamer, barely here. Just a day ago he hadn't healed from a bruise. How was he supposed to heal from _this_?

"He needs… blood," Alex uttered.

Tom's eyebrows met worriedly, but he repeated, "Blood? But he can't..."

"He can't heal! I stopped it but… I only slowed it down. He's still slipping, Tom. He's gonna _have_ to drink."

"If that were a good idea, and I'm not saying it is and all," Tom deliberated, then furrowed his eyebrows with narrowed eyes. "Well, I see a perfectly good candidate," Tom growled at Castle.

"We have blood. Donated, at the Archive," Maggie offered.

"There are donations at the archive," Rook said the same thing, but dismissively. "We have to go," his voice was clipped as he took hold of Jonathan and made to leave.

Alex insisted, "Help us. Please!"

"Alex… but," Tom protested in spite of his bravado. He knew, same as she, the price such a solution would cost.

"I'll get him out of here Tom. We _have_ to."

Maggie pursed her lips with a brief, grandmotherly deliberation, then she was gone. She returned a second later holding a simple, metal flask.

At the appearance of the floating flask, Rook drew a sharp intake of breath. "Maggie," he huffed, then gave a resigned sigh. "There's an isolation room at the Archive. Just - take him there, alright?" Rook's plea was earnest to Alex.

Alex nodded then took the flask Maggie offered by ghosting it to her outstretched hand.

"You shouldn't. Really, they _shouldn't_ ," Castle protested, feebly trying to pull away from Rook.

"I'm thinking I _shouldn't_ have shot him to begin with," Rook replied, caustically, and Jon Castle grew silent. "Milo is _not_ on our clearance. Your explanation had better be exemplary."

"You sure about this?" Tom asked, cautionary.

"We don't have a choice," Alex answered as she unscrewed the cap. The metallic clatter was familiar as it would be to anyone with an alcoholic past. But there was no heady scent of liquor upon the opening.

She took a deep breath, then lifted Hal's head. Everyone froze, watching her as she brought the flask to his lips. Her hope went with that crimson liquid. She couldn't think of the consequences. She could only hope that it would work. The blood trickled into his mouth, and he swallowed, unconsciously responding. She tilted more, and he gulped. Her hope grew with every desperate swallow, until the flask was drained. When she took the empty container away, Hal sucked in a violent gasp of a breath.

And just as violently, her relief shattered.

His eyes, when they opened, were full, fathomless black. But even that isn't it, as she has seen those eyes before. When he's trying to fight it off, there is always still a sense of _Hal_ in there. The struggle is evident. The only time she had seen _this_ depth of blackness was in the church in London; both of her hands on his chest in an attempt to stop him, pushing against a force as indifferent and deadly as a howitzer cannon. There wasn't a shred of her Hal left in that awful gaze. It was like looking into black oil. Hal was _gone_ , and in his place was a demon of pure fury and _wrath_. Dark and unbridled, the split second that gaze is locked on her is devastating, but when his attention shifts, it is even worse.

 _Blood_.

The blood that still flowed freely through the clutched and trivial handkerchief in Jonathan Castle's hand.

She had _never_ seen him move so fast. One second, she held him, her hand in his hair. But the next... Like any good predator, from near-death to _leaping_ death, Hal was on Castle in an instant - Rook already shouting a warning as he staggered clear and raised the crossbow, and Tom lunging after him. Alex knew Hal's hunger, and she knew his struggle against it. But she had never imagined what it would be like if he were to give in.

Alex could feel everything. Hal fell with such relief. Such inevitable, unleashed _acceptance_. The pleasant welcomed shock of warm, silken wetness on lips as fangs tore through thin skin, the way it dripped down and spurted; a flooded mouthful. The satisfaction that spread from throat and stomach out to every tiny nerve ending, every single cell coming alive with a blinding euphoria _of life._ The quenching thirst that passed, settled… then ignited a burning, undeniable hunger for more.

The feeling consumed her, overrode all other senses until she thought that she would explode into nothing but beats of pulse and spark.

All in the span of mere seconds.

But not Hal. He knew this. He had danced with this before. His eyes black, his stance threatening and chin bloodied as Castle's body slumped to the ground. He licked his lips and gave Dominic Rook a savouring smile, despite the weapon the man had shakily trained on him. Thankfully, in the moment Rook's finger began to tighten on the trigger, Tom slammed into Hal, and Rook hesitated. They tumbled, Tom wrapping his arms around his friend in an encompassing bear hug which the vampire hissed and fought against. Rook pulled his weapon up short, unable to get a clean shot.

As the two supernaturals fought, Rook dropped to check on Castle. "Fuck," he cursed, pressing his hand to the wound in a vain attempt to stem the flow. "Maggie - get help."

Maggie nodded and disappeared as Tom crashed Hal into the lorry. They grappled, but at each turn, Hal blocked him. A punch, stopped. A chokehold slipped free of. It was terribly clear Hal was trying to break free to go after Rook.

"Get out of here!" Tom bellowed to Rook as he caught Hal by the shoulders and kicked him back against the truck. Rook stood over Castle guardedly and raised the crossbow again.

"Jaysus no!" Alex screamed. Rook didn't heed her and he nearly had the shot… Alex pitched what little strength she had left at the compact weapon. _If she could just.._.

In that awful moment, the fast approach of running footsteps shifted Rook's attention as Allison, Irving and Christa came panting around the corner. Allison drew up short, eyes growing wide with Rook and his aimed crossbow. Her mouth formed a wide "oh".

Tom had somehow gotten Hal pinned to the lorry, blocking Rook's shot again and Rook yielded a frustrated snarl. "Get him to the Archive," he barked the order at Alex before he turned and fled, leaving the fallen Castle behind.

The vampire in Hal roared at Rook's escape and he shoved Tom aside, breaking free to run after. Christa was closest and she tried to intervene - to help - but was bluntly flung aside as if she were no more than a rag doll. She hit the ground and rolled as Alex teleported herself in front of Hal. He plowed into her like a train. Tom caught up to them and seized Hal's arm, pulling him back from behind - just as he had done once before in the woods when they were trying to bring him down. "Allison - get them out of here!" Tom shouted as Hal struggled against him, trying to pull away. Allison, flabbergasted, finally unfroze and went to help Irving with Christa.

"Hal _stop_!" Alex pleaded, hoping that some shred of him would listen. This was awful. The dark, unleashed fury of his eyes turned on her, and she _knew_. He would kill her if she wasn't already dead. Whatever was between them wasn't enough to stop him. It wasn't enough to stop what he had fought against for so long.

"Hal, mate," Tom warned, then pulled against him hard, trying to muscle him down. Tom strained with the effort and Alex just stood there, numbly exhausted and feeling futile. The small teleportation had winded her. She was spent, and doubted she could even shock Hal if he attacked her. But she would have to try.

Hal shoved Tom back, just as hard, unbalancing him and he spun, catching himself with hands on the pavement. In the brief respite from Tom's onslaught, Hal charged her, and she didn't move. Didn't stop him. _Couldn't_ stop him. Everything felt heavy and thick. When he took her by the shoulders it was as if she were watching from leagues away. When he leaned in, eyes soulessly black, she had no illusions.

Tom was getting up in what seemed like slow motion, as Hal's teeth tore into her neck. The violent jolt of it felt more present than the pain. When she died, she had been overcome with this terrible detachment from the _impossibility_ of it all. Awareness flung from the brutal terror of what was happening to her body. That same detachment hit her now. Hal, _her Hal -_ was gone. Completely overcome with a crushing hunger, a terrible, massacring drive.

Alex remembered her dream, and how Hal had tore into the girl at the Gardens with such a satisfied finality. _The wanting for this woman had gone on long enough._ It was over. He would consume her and she would fade...

He hugged her close to better draw from her throat, taking back the blood he had lost... and more. The lithe frame of his torso leaned into her like so many times before, but not like this. Never like this. From far away, oceans and leagues away, Tom was shouting, pulling on Hal's shoulders, kicking him - anything to try and wrench him free. But there was no stopping this. Not unless Tom wanted to repeat what she had undone.

Tom tried another angle and rammed an elbow into his friend's neck, jolting his teeth in her throat. The pain of what Hal was doing hit her fully and she gasped. In one last desperate flutter of survival, she shoved against his chest, palm flattened over the cold bloody tear of his shirt in an attempt to break free or shock him - but couldn't. She was trapped, powerless. With every thudding beat of her heart she was waning thinner.

It was simple. So very simple. With the instinct of self-preservation, she did the one thing she realised in that exact moment that she _could_ do.

She turned it off.

She simply _let go_.

She had to.

The bond of their thread drained with her blood, as awareness seeped back. Something hard and long pressed into her stomach and Alex's awareness clicked open. With impossible effort, she inched her pressed hand to where the department issued tranquilliser sat in Hal's pocket. Somehow, her fingers blindly found the safety and clicked it off. The position was awkward, but she nudged the barrel against him, inside his jacket. The thing couldn't have weighed much, but to Alex, it felt like lead. Engrossed, and with Tom pummeling him from behind, Hal didn't notice. Alex pulled the trigger to an answering _whoosh-thwunk_! When Hal jerked away something snapped inside of her, broken and sharp with loss. The muffled tranquiliser gun sounded almost inconsequential to the sudden dull rush of _nothingness_.

But Hal stopped.

Tom stopped.

Hal took a step back, blood smeared across his cheek. He glanced down to where a little pulsing light - a bright and cheery tracking beacon, protruded from his stomach. His black eyes blinked, and he seemed almost befuddled before he dizzily faltered, then slumped bonelessly backwards into Tom.

* * *

_"Zugzwang" is a German word for a 'compulsion to move', and is often referenced in chess. Generally, it means being forced by circumstance to take an unfavourable action._

_Musical inspiration in the playlist for this chapter was "Insolence" by Shearwater._

_"There's nothing in that awful gaze - it's like looking into black oil - but there's everything there too. Loss and hopelessness and despair. And anger. Dark, unbridled anger."_  
 _This is a quote from one of my all-time favourite ghost stories, "The Memory of Grace" by Charles DeLint._


	34. Sleep of Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Two rewrites pre BETA, then two more after… This one is 'packed'. Musical nod to the entire album "By the Throat" by Ben Frost, which was in heavy rotation for the early drafts. (Orchestral dark ambient with howling - just what everyone wants for Christmas!) Reviews are how I know you care. Little extra thanks for all the care on the last chapter! ___
> 
> * * *

Tom's expression was nothing but dumbfounded when Hal yielded, falling slack into his arms. In contrast to the violence of a moment ago, Tom lowered Hal's form to the ground with an overt gentleness. He eyed his friend with dubious caution however, making sure he was really unconscious before standing. Then his concerned gaze landed on Alex with alarm.

"You're hurt! You're -" Tom halted in his reach forward, his eyes going wide. At Tom's disbelieving expression, Alex brought a hand to her neck. The pain was a dissipating mirage, dream-like, but still - she expected to feel a raw wound. Instead, she felt a strange _nothing._ Her skin was unbroken. The blood she had felt trickling down her collar, was gone. As if it hadn't just happened seconds ago at all. As if Hal hadn't just...

Shakily, she met Tom's worried eyes and nodded, "Yeah. Okay. I'm okay," then looked down to Hal. "Oh holy hell." Something was wrong. Something in her gut, in her very being, was terribly, horribly wrong. She felt numb, and in an odd way, displaced. And she couldn't stop staring at Hal. She sank to her knees and reached out to touch him, but faltered and merely straightened his jacket. It was a pathetic gesture of setting things right. The smear of crimson that contrasted against the pale inside of his wrist stopped her short. The fine-mist spray and spatter across his jaw. The jewel-vivid and terrible colour of it. And underneath it all was the fear of acknowledging what she already felt was true.

"You got to get him out of here," Tom snapped her awareness back. "You got to get him safe Alex. We ain't got time."

"Shite," she took another shaky breath. "The wolves."

"And me. I can smell him, like. _Really_ smell him." Tom ran his hand through his short hair and over his scars, distraught.

"I…" Alex tried, and failed to form words for what had just happened. She knew - just _knew_ \- that she couldn't teleport Hal. "I can't," she admitted.

"You can, you have-ta," Tom insisted.

"No," she shook her head. "I _can't."_

Tom shook his head, about to argue further, but then his eyes suddenly narrowed. Alex looked up, immediately seeing what had caught his attention. The shadowed figure of a woman, nearly camouflaged in black leather, stood very still, just out of the shadows. Her dark hair was tucked under a wrap of black silk, leaving only her perfectly pale skin visible in the half light. With a start, Alex knew her. _Rosanna._

Even though she made no motion to attack them, Alex's anger flared. Just the sight of Hal's picture perfect ex was a enough to strike a rage, but could she actually be behind all this?

Something in the way she held herself said that she was of a much higher status than the others who had flocked here to fight tonight. She was openly staring at Hal in a state of disbelief - either because he was incapacitated, or that he was here at all, Alex couldn't quite tell. Behind her was the barest of movement, and Alex saw another shadowed figure emerge.

"Tom…" Alex tensed protectively, even knowing it was futile as Rosanna shifted her calculating gaze. Alex knew that there was little that she could do. She couldn't move them, nor did she have the strength to fight. Tom swallowed and tightened his grip on his stake as three more vampires revealed themselves. His eyes flicked from side to side and Alex had a feeling that he sensed that there were even more, out of sight.

"He still has you hooked I see," Rosanna said haughtily, then raised her eyes to regard Tom with a wry smile.

"Down boy," she taunted and Tom only coiled tighter. But his tensed expression changed to a slight befuddlement as Rosanna turned her palms outward, openly showing that she meant no harm. She took a slight step forward and gave a curious tilt of her head. "Up until a few weeks ago, everyone thought Henry here was truly proper dead. The Council put a price out and ooh, it's a pretty one," Rosanna cooed and Alex placed her hand defensively on Hal. "I couldn't believe my luck when he turned up, announcing right where he'd be," she scoffed and Tom's eyes narrowed dangerously. Rosanna just raised a fine eyebrow. "Oh, come now. You didn't really think all this hurly-burly was for werewolf benefit, did you? He's ours," Rosanna sneered and without pause for a response, she closed her hand into a fist.

The waiting vampires all stepped forward. Alex was still seething from the betrayal of this woman - Hal had trusted her! But Tom was all business. He instantly launched into the attack. Alex was frozen, questioning the vampire's motives as they were surrounded, but Tom moved in a blur of speed. Shadowy forms were coming from all sides. They were going to gang up on them…

"Tom - No!" Alex screamed. Internally she cursed the loss of her powers, wishing she could do something, anything -

The crunching snap of bone was so swift that it took the thud of Rosanna's body falling to the pavement for Alex to even register what Tom had done. A soft tendril of hair had escaped her scarf, her eyes suddenly vacant, and Alex wondered if eventually the woman would heal and recover. She kind of hoped that she wouldn't. Without missing a beat, Tom staked the next vampire in one fluid movement. Alex, open mouthed, could only focus on the paralyzed vampire crumpled across from her as Tom whirled into fighting.

If these vampires had been sent to collect Hal, they had seriously underestimated how fiercely Tom would defend him. As Tom fought, Alex could clearly see just how much he had held back in trying to restrain his friend without hurting him. If Tom had wanted Hal dead, Hal would probably be dead. All Alex could do was to lean over Hal protectively while Tom fought and won, single-handedly, against eight vampires. And he did it just as anything else that needed doing. Straight-faced. Fast. Efficient. In less than a minute, it was over.

The few who had their necks snapped rather than staked lay in ungraceful sprawls. Tom lunged over their prone bodies to return to Alex and Hal. He dropped to his haunches, catching his breath as he held her gaze with a deep seriousness. "We really have-ta get him outta here."

All around them, the park had gone quiet as the sounds of fighting faded down. Like birds before an earthquake, the other vampires were gone - killed or fled - just like that. Then, the first scream rippled across the park. Then another.

The full moon was nearly upon them.

* * *

They didn't quite make it back to the dodgems. Carrying Christa propped between them as she limped on one foot, Allison and Irving stopped halfway. One of their comrades, woefully outnumbered against the group of vampires that gave chase, came sprinting around the haunted house.

"Oh thank gods!" the haggard werewolf gasped as soon as his frantic eyes laid sight on them. Irving steered Christa to the nearby bench so they could all draw stakes.

The subsequent fight was a blur. Four of them, one with a twisted ankle and literally benched, against a dozen vampires. No matter how close they were to the change, strength and speed could only take the inexperienced so far. At one point, Allison lost her spectacles. At one point, she desperately wished she hadn't heeded Tom and had stayed with him. At one point, she thought they were done for.

The awareness of relief came ahead of the scope of her human senses when they were joined by another group of their Pack. Snarling speed and vicious judgement ended one vampire caught surprised, then two more. No longer outnumbered, the rest of the fight was swift. The few vampires that remained started to back away, uncertainly glancing at each other. One of them shook his head, pointing upwards towards the peak of the full moon and they all followed his lead in retreating. Then Christa screamed. A blood-curdling, painful scream, and instantly, Allison felt it too.

Heavy as a tidal wave, the wolf crashed into them all.

Allison cried out involuntarily and doubled over. Some small part of her was aware that the vampires had turned and fled, but it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered now but the change taking over her. The pain that consumed her whole, chewed her up and would soon spit her out, beyond the edge of self.

The pavement was a welcome friend, cool beneath the heat of her palms. The pavement caught all of them. Even Christa had dropped off the bench to take an all-fours embrace. Allison clenched her teeth and tried to focus. Her mind had snagged, landing on one very important thing. Something critical. If only she could focus on what that was...

A familiar face, contorted in pain. A face she couldn't quite place.

_Focus, Larson._

Through the speechless agony of shifting bone, despite the loss of her spectacles, Allison honed her blurred vision beyond the contorted figures of the Pack. Just past them all, a man stood still. A man with an irritatingly familiar face that stared back at her.

 _Vinicius… Vinnie?_ Allison blinked then coughed, fighting her own body to keep her attention lucid. The blurred form blurred more. An overlay of another face, a stranger. She had only seen the Brazilian anthropologist's photo once - when she had read his obituary. Perhaps she was mistaken. Whoever it was, the man's body suddenly went limp, collapsing like a cut marionette. The stranger dropped, crumpling to the pavement without a sound.

Then, he gracefully pushed himself up and stood. Or rather, _someone_ stood.

A hazy form had overlain the fallen man, solidifying as it separated. The figure _parted_ from him, and simply walked away. It was impossible. It didn't make any sense.

Allison blinked, trying to keep the tethers of her mind from fragmenting. But it was no use. The pain swept her up as the wolf was clawing her way out, to freedom. To run. To the excitement of the Pack and the hunt. And Allison had no choice but to surrender.

* * *

Tom clenched his teeth. "Now Alex!"

Alex nodded numbly as she hugged Hal's torso to hers. His frame was limp, his muscles looser than she had ever seen. Large-game tranquilisers, she remembered Rook saying, then wondered how long such a thing would work on a raving vampire. Closing her eyes, she locked her concentration down and tried to teleport them _-Home- …_

_-the Archive- ..._

_-the woods...?_

_-the next bloody block!?_

\- only, nothing. Zip. Nada. It didn't work. _Nothing happened._ Whatever power she had was stalled, just like she'd thought. She'd used it all up. Or else, she really had broken… Alex still couldn't form the thought.

She whipped her attention back to Tom. He had dropped his head into his hands. "Tom…" she tried, only something crunched and Tom doubled over with a sharp shout.

Panting, he looked up to meet Alex's wide eyes. Beads of sweat were breaking across his brow. "You can't," he stated bluntly, his words clipped short by pain. She nodded, even though she knew he wanted a different answer.

Tom's jaw clenched and his eyes winced shut. When he opened them again it was to look in the direction Allison had gone. An expression of worry flashed across his features, but he shook his head. Blowing air deliberately out of his mouth in a calming way, he reminded Alex of an expectant mother. But then he squatted down and lifted Hal away from her with determination. "Feet," he said.

She quickly heeded his demand. Another chorus of guttural screams rippled across the park as together they hoisted Hal and quickly backed away with him. Alex scrutinised Tom's face nervously as they moved. He was in obvious pain, but just breathed through it, heavily, jaw clenched. They reached the back service gate and Tom set Hal down, pausing to grasp his own knees. His breath was coming short and ragged.

"Tom… the gate. We _rent-a-ghosted_ in," Alex spoke quickly as panic finally hit. They were trapped! She hadn't been a ghost all that long, and yet she had already come to heavily rely on her abilities. It was difficult to think through how else they would possibly get out.

Squaring his jaw and straightening his spine with a resolute grimace, Tom pivoted to the gate. It was locked with a chain and bolt. He took the loose loop of chain in two hands, planted his feet and took a deep breath. Then, with a controlled exhale, he leaned backwards, pulling against the gate. For a small moment, nothing happened. Tom sank into his weight, straining. He bellowed an angry scream, muscles and veins standing out under his short sleeves. One link slowly bent, then, it snapped. With a gasp, Tom staggered and caught his balance, and let the broken chain drop. Panting again, he leaned forward against the fencing.

"Tom?" Alex almost reached out to him, but stopped when he turned to face her. Tom's eyes had changed. The gaze that met hers was a fierce, feral yellow.

He blinked and looked quickly away, catching her surprised fright. He steadied himself, then wrenched the gate open with a grunt. Alex swiftly returned to take Hal's shoulders, and she lifted him up as much as she could to drag his body through the narrow opening. He'd be absolutely appalled at the state of his clothes, she thought with irony as she struggled, Hal's heels dragging. As soon as they were clear, Tom slammed the gate shut. He wrapped the broken end of chain back through, looping it on itself, then looked pointedly to the darkened building across the circle. The boarded up and rickety ice cream stand would be shelter enough against the rain, but certainly not much else. There was no way a bit of plywood and paint would keep out a wolf!

"No way that -" Alex started, but Tom shook his head. He opened his mouth to reveal canines grown longer than Hal's

"Ow-ee-sin," he growled, unable to fully speak around his changing teeth. Alex watched, terrified stiff as Tom's hand gripping the gate warped and grew claws. He looked as if he wished to say something else, but whatever words he had were lost to a scream. He abruptly let go of the bars to drop to all fours.

The screams rippling across the park had grown silent, just as Tom's began. He had kept his wolf at bay as long as he humanly could. But now, there was no stopping the change taking over. Alex's breath caught in horror as she watched bile and blood sputter from Tom's mouth. Yet still, his pained eyes darted to hers, pleading. Unrooted, she nodded then hefted Hal up once more. As she backed away, she heard the sickening sound of Tom's bones breaking. His form heaved, and he ripped through his clothes with claws grown long. His yellowed eyes met hers once more - one last anguished human look, before he was gone completely.

She dragged Hal across the street, trying not to listen to the terrible sounds coming from their friend as he transformed. She had heard it happen before, through the locked and sturdy cellar door, but still wasn't prepared to witness the physical inhuman cruelty of it. All this time, Tom and Allison had both downplayed it well. Because it didn't seem possible for someone to go through that, and still live. Alex held an unnecessary breath as Tom's wrenching form stilled, and fur and fang grew. The wolf's elongated ears twitched and pricked their way. It was too late. _They were too late._ The increasing rain would help, but even a deluge wouldn't wash their trail away swiftly enough.

Shadowed movement halfway down the wall caught her eye. Then she spotted another silhouette further afield. Every twenty yards, just as Hal had prescribed. An operative scaled the wall, sprinkled their bit of blood, and dropped back down to return to the shadows. They obviously weren't bothering to lay the ruse at the end where the real deal lay in wait. It was happening. Their trap was set.

Only now, there were _two_ locations the wolves would amass to.

Alex hoped the quantity of ambushed and captured vampires at the main gate would be more enticing than the fresh blood of but one. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had been helping Hal to carry them in the same way she had just carried him. The kiss he had given her for luck was a lifetime removed from the horror of what had just happened. And the terror at the root of her soul of what was going to happen next. She didn't need heightened senses like Tom's to know. Remnants of blood smeared a trail across the wet pavement, leading directly to the newly transformed werewolf. He still hadn't recovered, head hung low. Across the park one baleful howl was quickly joined by countless others. A great caterwaul of a chorus that echoed out beyond the walls, and caught the ears of the monster inside the gate. The sound gave her chills, somewhere primal.

But the howls didn't hold the beast's attention for long. A low vibration of growl turned to a snarl as the wolf's nostrils flared. He had caught the scent of vampire blood. _Hal's blood._ The creature paced the gate, then nudged it with his nose. Tom's looped knot of the chain surely wouldn't hold the wolf for long. Gods, what had Hal done at the club to distract the wolf? _He had used himself as bait. Jaysus._ Alex closed her eyes, as if somehow she could shut out the atrocity of what Tom's wolf wanted. But then, the creature whimpered.

Alex opened her eyes to see the wolf backing away from the gate, ears flattened. He tried again from the side and gave a short yowl of frustration.

The silver! She remembered with a start.

It was working.

Alex's hope flared, and in her relief, she recognised a sound. An approaching _whomph-whomph-whomph_ that had been there all along, increasing in volume. It was nearly upon them. She looked up to see a stark silhouette against the clouds of a descending helicopter. It slowed to hover over their end of the park. With the sudden pop of flash, a dart pinged off the metal of the gate and skidded away. The helicopter was there for extra insurance; no one would be leaving the park. Tom's wolf snarled and pushed against the bars which nearly gave. One more attempt and he'd be through. The silver didn't seem to be doing much good at repelling him. Alex realised that she must have broken the line when she dragged Hal through it, but she didn't have to worry for long.

A flash flared again and Tom roared as he was hit. He howled and flung his body against the gate once, twice, then staggered, like he had suddenly gone tipsy. He dropped limply, curled in on his side, claws flexed. Her relief was short lived though because it wasn't yet over. Other wolves were approaching, drawn like moths to flame for the lure of fresh vampire blood. Alex could only watch the monsters lope closer, all claw, fang and identical ferocity. There wasn't a way for her know which creature was a friend. The pair cautiously approaching could be Christa and Irving. Or one of them could be Allison. It could be anyone. Rationally, Alex knew it was whichever werewolves were close enough to catch Hal's scent. Reason dictated that these wolves _were_ their friends.

One by one they each fell as shots were fired. As the werewolves yowled and stumbled, the helicopter pulled up and turned, leaving the fallen wolves where they lay. The frenzied air stilled as it departed, taking the deafening sound with it, and Alex was left alone with sleeping monsters.

* * *

Nave watched the helicopter complete it's scan of securing the perimeter while he waited for the Department's locksmith to finish. A van came around the bend, followed by another. Then, two more, all bearing the appropriate auto-wrap of Watson's Maintenance and Repair. He pulled the assembly list printout from his pocket as the first van came to a stop. Nave approached the driver's window.

"Castle is in the fourth quadrant. At least, we hope that's where he still is. Pick up will be at the East roundabout"

The driver nodded, then proceeded without hesitation through the opened service gate. It was a given in their line of work that operatives on the ground could end up in supernatural crossfire, but Castle had been seasoned. Experienced. Rook had sent out a terse message that said it had been _Hal Yorke_ who had attacked Jonathan Castle. It didn't make any sense.

Nave relayed Rook's instructions to each driver as they came through. All that was left to do now was the protocol of taking blood samples to determine attendance. And to relocate two dozen sleeping werewolves, of course. It was going to be a very long night.

It had already been a long day of preparations, and he didn't know how Rook managed. They had to use every van available and mandatory overtime for all staff, while Mr. Rook himself had overseen everything. Right now, Rook was stationed along with the rest of their best marksmen at the mouth of the main gate. Just as Jonathan Castle had been raised by the Department, Nave had been surprised to learn that so had Dominic Rook. Only instead of adopted in like Castle, Mr. Rook had actually been born to all of this. His father had been the Departmental head until his death, seven years ago. Suicide, some rumoured. A situation that the Senior Mr. Rook should have been experienced and seasoned enough to avoid. Again, Nave wondered about Castle. The lad had seemed rather strung out recently.

Nave's phone vibrated yet another text alert in his pocket. His job momentarily stalled, he retrieved it. Maggie was still relaying what had happened in short bursts of text to the team.

This text now however, was only to him.

_Classified: Yorke caught Castle with Milo before Rook intervened. All to be questioned. Yorke injured, Millar directed to transport to Archive, but no sign. Locate ASAP._

Nave narrowed his eyes and glanced out across the park. He knew that there was something about the whole situation that didn't sit right. An internal investigation _and_ an off-the-wagon vampire let loose and on a bender? Just what they needed in all this. Nave shuddered, knowing the threat of Yorke was very real, no matter how controlled he may seem. It wouldn't take much - Nave had seen the pictures of the Box Tunnel 20. How in the name of holies did Maggie Dan expect him to find and stop Yorke? But then he remembered; Yorke had been issued a tranquiliser. Perhaps he hadn't used it. Perhaps, he still had it on him.

Nave logged into the internal system on his phone to find the call number assigned to Yorke's dart gun. The log showed it as having been activated less than ten minutes ago. Nave knew that a lot could happen in ten minutes, but he also knew it was the only lead they had. He zoomed in on the coordinates and was surprised to see the location as being outside of the eastern end of park.

Could a wolf have gotten through the barrier? He wondered. But then again, Millar could have ended up with the weapon. And if she did, could she have actually used it against Yorke?

Nave gave one last glance to his assigned post, then headed east.

* * *

By the time Alex had dragged Hal under the overhang of the ice cream stand, his clothes were soaked through from the rain. Alex wasn't all that experienced with hauling bodies. Hal probably knew a much better way to go about it, she thought with irony. The task was a welcome distraction even if it was futile. It kept her from thinking too much on what had just happened. It kept her from really analysing why she felt so coldly detached from everything.

She watched the return of the helicopter with the same ambivalent numbness. Alex remained seated where she was, cross-legged on the pavement next to Hal. He still hadn't moved. His head had landed turned away from her, but she could still see the steady rise and fall of his chest. She could still see the darker stain of blood all down his front that rain wouldn't wash away. She didn't know what she would do when he woke up.

The helicopter descended to gingerly land in the middle of the open roundabout in front of them. The thrumping blades stirring a wind that she couldn't feel, but the pulse of sound beat through her chest. A van approached bearing some rubbish about a maintenance and repair company, but Alex knew it was the Department. The panel door slid open before the vehicle had even stopped. She was so occupied with watching them bring out the still and bloodied form of Jonathan Castle, that she hadn't noticed the approaching footsteps.

"Miss Millar? Are you there?"

A torch beam landed on Hal's boot, illuminating their small shelter while the rain pounded down on Mike Nave. His gaze was searching the space over her head, looking for some sign of her.

"Yeh, I'm here" she answered before remembering that he couldn't hear her anymore than he could see her. She was dubious of the Department, but something in Nave's cautious question was disarming. She would never stop thinking of him as her detective, hired by her family in a vain attempt to find her, all those months ago. But now he was entrenched in all this as much as she. Both of their lives forever changed by chance encounters. She pulled at the sleeve of Hal's jacket, lifting his hand then letting it fall. Nave's gaze fixed on the movement, startled, then he exhaled a breath.

"Ah," he said, then gave a brusque wave towards the helicopter. "I take it you've gotten stuck for some reason?" Nave asked, giving a nod to the operative that looked their way. Without waiting for an answer he turned back to them. "How's about we get sleeping beauty there moved before he wakes up, eh?"

Mike Nave wanted to help them. Alex hadn't realized the weight of her hopelessness, until it was lifted. She had never been so glad to see her detective.


	35. The Longest Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _I promise there is an outline, and an end. It may be taking me longer between posts these days, but we will get there. Huge thanks to those of you still following along. Reviews, as always, are love._

The persistent beat of the helicopter blades had fused into a pulsing drone, and Nave gave an impatient wave towards the van. Two young men in matching grey overcoats pulled a bright yellow stretcher free from the rear, and proceeded towards the shelter of the boarded up ice-cream stand. Alex stood and took a step back, giving them plenty of clearance. The operatives set their stretcher on the pavement next to Hal, but before they moved him, one revealed a syringe. Without hesitation, he stabbed Hal none-too-gently in the side of the neck. Alex gasped in surprise but he had already delivered the drug and retracted the needle as if it were completely standard procedure. He then helped hoist Hal onto the gurney.

"Sorry there Alex," Nave cleared his throat, overseeing his team bind Hal with heavy straps. "That dart won't keep a vampire under long enough. This is the only way we can transport him safely, given the, er... state of things," he fumbled. "You understand?"

Alex couldn't answer, so didn't. Everyone around them knew exactly how dangerous Hal really was, and took appropriate precaution. First Hetty, when she had immobilized Hal in order to talk to Alex, and now the Department. _Better to knock out the loose cannon rather than set him off…_ Hal had always been a ticking time bomb. Alex had just chosen not to see it. His strength had won out for so long before, she had thought it would again. Even yesterday she had pushed him. _Let go,_ she had said. _You're not going to hurt me._ Alex had been blind. The panic of losing him had overcome reason. She should have gotten them safe somewhere, before giving him blood. But then, would he have just come after her anyways? It had been Castle he leapt for upon waking. Castle, who had set them all up, somehow. The gurney was lifted, breaking Alex from her thoughts as Nave started following them. Alex trailed along behind.

The churned wind whipped Nave's short hair to a frenzy as they ducked under the helicopter blades. Alex's skirt didn't even move, but she didn't stop to contemplate it. The helicopter was painted a flat, military grey. Its rounded nose was almost friendly, and Alex recalled the poster that had been pinned to the wall of her brother Ryan's room since he was eleven years old. _A Westland Lynx_ , she remembered with strange detachment as she followed the stretcher into the cramped space of the helicopter. Nave paused at the door, the floor of the cargo hold level with his waist as he watched the operatives hook Hal's stretcher in, opposite from Castle.

"Alright?" he asked, looking up towards the pilot. "Godspeed. I'll see you soon."

"Wait - you're not coming?" Alex asked, panic suddenly and irrationally rising. But Nave couldn't hear her now anymore than he could previously. He slapped the metal hull then backed away.

The pilot watched the operatives finish strapping in their cargo, then turned to face a barrage of dials. Before it seemed anyone was even settled - one operative was still in process of securing the door - the sound of the blades changed, and the helicopter lifted up and forward, following along the road as it rose.

The only time Alex had been inside a helicopter was at the National Museum of Flight during one of their more successful family holidays. There had been one lonely old relic in a massive hangar filled with various other wartime examples. It had metal steps leading visitors in one side of the open panel door, then out the other. The paint of the steel floor had worn down, leaving a polished pathway. Separating the cockpit from over-enthusiastic visitors had been a wall of scratched and hazy plexiglass. The cargo hold had been empty, making the craft feel much more spacious than it actually was. In real world reality, it was quite cramped. And terribly loud.

Her brothers would flip at the chance to be flown like this, but she couldn't enjoy it. Not with being pressed against door in an attempt to avoid anyone brushing into her, given the confinement of the space. Not with the faint and decreasing blip of the monitor on Jonathan Castle who was incredibly, still alive. Alex almost couldn't believe it. She hadn't survived when Cutler had torn into her. But then again, no one had been around to attempt to resuscitate her either. Still, Castle's outlook didn't seem good. His face was partially obscured by an oxygen mask that did little to hide how pale he was. His ravaged neck was covered by a thick wad of gauze that one operative kept in place with pressure.

Two of the operatives tended to Castle, while the other seemed to be exclusively monitoring Hal. With a loaded crossbow. They had drugged him. Why were they still worried? Was the pull of fresh blood enough to bring Hal around regardless of whatever they had dosed him with?

The sensation of rising increased, and Alex held onto the back of the pilot's seat. They cleared the height of the hills and buildings, turned and headed north. Towards the Archive.

The waiting silence in the cabin was tense with only the crashing beat of the blades as they travelled. The operatives seeing to Castle were obviously trained in this sort of emergency response, and Alex wondered just how often their skills were needed. She hoped Jonathan Castle would make it. She hoped the Department wanted to know just what the hell he had been up to as much as she did.

Fortunately, the journey to the area of the woods that hid the Archive didn't take long via helicopter flight. Alex watched their descent through the windscreen over the pilot's shoulder as they quickly approached what she would have thought was an impassable clearing. The pilot maneuvered the craft expertly however, and they landed with hardly a bounce. He flipped a few switches, dampening down the whine of the engines, then was instantly on his radio.

"Dustoff code red. I repeat, dustoff code red. Target, over."

Alex scooted out of the way as one of the operatives slid open the panel door. They unhooked the carabiners securing Castle, then slid the gurney towards the opening. Two of the operatives hopped out, pulled the gurney clear and dropped the wheeled base. Then just as swiftly, they were off, wheeling Castle into the darkness of the woods. Mister Unwavering Crossbow remained, as did the pilot, who casually reached for a packet of crisps.

"It's all gone pear-shaped I hear. The Old Man really give orders for this?" the pilot asked then opened his crisps with a foiled crinkle. He swiveled in his seat and extended the packet. "Eh?"

The fellow with the crossbow relaxed some, then reached across Hal with his free hand to take the offered crisp with a shrug. "Arsed if you ask me," he said then glanced down. "The fang's an Old One."

The pilot raised an eyebrow under his helmet briefly, but then shook his head. "So? I still don't see why we're bothered to take him home."

The younger operative shrugged again, then glanced out into the woods. "He's wanted for questioning about Castle. All's I care 'bout is for 'em to get on with it," he said.

The pilot chuckled. "Just because this bloke's an Old One don't mean he's gonna wake up."

"Still. I'd rather he weren't our problem in any case. Gives me the creeps."

"What? The vampire? Or the ghost?" The pilot searched the empty space. "She may not even be here, all we know," he declared, then casually popped another crisp in his mouth. Alex rolled her eyes, then flicked at a loose strap. It swayed nicely and the youth's eyes darted to it, then he hardened his mouth into a line.

"Heh," the pilot showed his amusement. "You'll get used to it Jim, trust me."

"Yeh, right… Still - I'd rather we weren't the only thing standing between it and another Box Tunnel fiasco, or worse. I heard Arthur tell of a dry one years back that took out a whole bingo hall." Jim shuddered but Alex nearly wanted to laugh. Or cry. The entire situation was painfully absurd. She knew just how grave it had all become. _Hal had nearly_...

The pilot shook his head. "With what they dosed him with? He won't be waking up anytime soon. Relax." To make his point he rummaged around for another crisp.

Alex looked to Hal who was utterly still from whatever concoction they had given him. His black shirt was torn and slick with blood. He looked dead. With a pang of despair, Alex closed her eyes.

And suddenly, the ground heaved out from under her and she opened her eyes to the kitchen of Honolulu Heights. _Accidental teleportation hadn't happened like that since…_ She shook herself. It hadn't happened since she was first practising, when Hal was still chaired. He had yelled a particularly nasty insult and bam! she was back home. In Glasgow. Which was when she first discovered she could jump that far.

To have tried so hard earlier and failed, only to now end up "home" again? Alex sighed a shaky breath, unsettled. The house was darkened except for a bare glow filtering in through stained glass. The kitchen was empty, quiet. "Home" despite her anchoring sign's cheerful declaration, felt foreign and surreal. Everything was off, with an undercurrent of _wrongness_. Even the few dishes in the sink from before they left were wrong. Hal hadn't the time to wash them, before…

_Before._

As if in a dream, Alex turned on the tap. She stoppered the sink and added fairy liquid, watching the water froth with bubbles. Mechanically, she reached for the sponge then immersed her hands into the steaming water. It could have been air for all she felt.

She found a plate, something in the hardness differentiating itself, and she began to scrub. She rinsed it, then set it aside, then reached for the next. _There. This was good. Hal wouldn't have_ _to... When he came home… If he…_ Hal wouldn't be doing the washing up. They'd have to chair him all over again. Her despair sank through her center.

The plate shattered with a crunching crash into the sink and Alex gasped. The overhead light flickered, illuminating the empty kitchen in haphazard flashes, then snapped out.

Alex turned off the water.

Breathing deeply to try and calm herself, she stepped away. The blinding panic that had started to take hold slowly began to fade with every focused exhale. She couldn't remain here. She should get back, if she could. Alex took a deep breath and concentrated. She pictured the scene she had just left. The meadow. The deepening darkness of woods. Hal motionless and strapped down like cargo.

And just as it should be, she was back in the helicopter. Jim immediately adjusted his posture to be back on his guard, and the pilot swiveled to face the dash, crumpling his empty crisp packet into a duffel. Startled, Alex glanced between them before realizing she hadn't been the cause.

The steel frame of an empty trolley flashed in the dark, wheeled through the woods by only one of the medics. He gave a nod to Jim as he approached. The young operative squared his jaw then kneeled to unfasten Hal's stretcher from the helicopter. Once the medic lined the trolley up with the edge of the helicopter platform, Jim jumped out and helped transfer Hal to the stretcher. The pilot kicked the engine on, sending the rotor quickly into spin.

"Good luck," he said in parting before the sound swelled.

Alex hopped out without a backwards glance. As the engine kicked into gear, the medic strapped Hal to the trolley with heavy belts across his legs and torso, then bound his wrists to the frame.

"Is this really necessary? He's out for fucksake!" Alex shouted, but of course, no one could hear her. And they were already off, swiftly moving their charge through the dark woods as the helicopter lifted. Before the sound had even faded away, they came to an unfamiliar storage container. There was a grinding of a door mechanism, which pivoted open at their approach. Inside the rusting hulk of the container was… absolutely nothing. The storage container was barren. This couldn't be the isolation room that Rook spoke of - it was far too exposed to stash a bloodthirsty vampire. Still, Alex followed behind as the cantilevered door started to shut. The dim light dropped to blackness with the closing door and both operatives just… stood there, as if they were waiting for something. The floor suddenly lurched into movement as tiny blue lights pinged on to give the barest of illumination to the floor edges, and Alex realized they were in a giant lift. It was big enough to hold a couple of cars. Or a van.

The room went down with a steady sinking for several levels. There weren't any doors, only a solid wall of steel that they descended. There weren't any visible controls, so the lift must be remotely operated. An edge of a panel door appeared in the wall of steel, and the sinking came to a stop. The panel slid open to the bright lights of a startlingly cavernous parking garage. But aside from a couple of unmarked vans and a few civilian cars, the space was empty.

The operatives didn't linger. Without speaking, they were wheeling the trolley forward again towards a smaller mechanical door on the far side of the garage. Then they were speeding through familiar grey corridors, though Alex couldn't be certain where in the Archive they were. It all looked the same, until they came to a hallway that dead ended. Along it were six identical metal doors and a single chair at the end. They took Hal to the last room on the left.

Inside was a grey cube. Constructed of concrete, it was featureless except for a small drain at the center and a dark metal base framing the room in a poor attempt at design. Overhead, was a recessed light guarded behind a steel cage. In one wall were inset bolts sunk into the concrete. Shackle bolts, Alex realized with a start.

Jim hung back with his crossbow trained on Hal's immobile torso while the medic locked the wheels on the trolley. He double checked that every strap was secure, then hooked a carabiner to the inset bolt, effectively shackling the trolley to the wall. He then looked up to glance around the empty room. It almost seemed like he was about speak, when a static hiss of radio cut in.

"Prepare C and D for Type three receiving, over."

The medic retrieved the radio from his belt and answered with a simple, "Copy." He gave a nod to Jim who finally lowered his weapon. Then, they both left the room, pulling the door shut behind. There was a large inlay of a cross set into the backside of the metal door. Above that was a small fish-eye camera lens tucked behind the grate of a single vent. "Isolation room" Rook had said. Alex gave a sorrowful huff. Prison was more like it. She knew the cross wouldn't bother Hal, but it sank home the true purpose of this place. Perhaps the entire corridor, with its identical heavy doors, was solely for the stowage of supernatural captives.

When the operatives departed, the silence was abysmal.

She looked to Hal, still and pale against the overbearing grey of the room. The dark spatter smeared dry under his chin stood out in vivid colour. His hollow gaze flashed before her eyes in recollection of just how quickly he had turned. How quickly he was gone, consumed by the call of blood. The sheer power it had over him.

And she had given him over to it. He would have killed her - worse than killed her. He would have taken all of her, leaving nothing. She would have ceased to be - Door or no. And it was exactly what he had feared. What he had warned her of about him time and time again. If he were to loose his hold on himself, the result would be catastrophic. The deadly insistence of his eyes when he asked if she knew just how close he had come with Megan, at the hotel… if she hadn't intercepted him.

Alex had known the hold that blood had over Hal. She had glimpsed what level he would literally stoop to if he gave in. She had known, but hadn't really fathomed just how dangerous an on-the-wagon vampire really was.

Hal had been dry for an entire lifetime before they met… and yet in the span of _his_ lifetime it wasn't so long. Bloodshed, taking life - it hadn't just been in his past - it had been the _majority_ of his past. That he had fought against it this long was a miracle. It was a strong attestment to his character that he even could. That he would even choose to, knowing how quickly it all could change. She had saved him, but had she really? She had saved him, but it had come at such a heavy cost.

Yet, it still wasn't why she wanted to cry. Why her tears wouldn't come. All she could feel was loss. She was a barren cavity scooped out. A hollow thing. An echo. _A ghost._

Her senses had been heightened whenever they touched, but even when leagues apart from Hal, Alex had still felt relatively normal. Like herself.

_This_ was terrible.

She couldn't hide from facing it any longer. From the moment she had let go in self-preservation, the entire _world_ had deadened. Sounds were dulled. Not to mention touch and smell. The floor, the concrete walls - nothing felt real. She was numbed to the world. Or perhaps the world was now numbed to her. It was as if she were walking through a dream, detached. She was being without her body. She was truly a ghost.

Alex came to stand next to the gurney, and looked down on Hal's slackened face. The shadows of his eyelashes against his pale skin were stark. The broken lines of ash that had stood out so strongly before she had fed him, were washed away. Under the tear of his shirt, his skin was unbroken. Healed. His hair was damp from the rain, and dishevelled. And it was utterly futile to delay any longer. Unable to resist her morbid curiosity, Alex reached out to brush his bedraggled hair aside. When Hal didn't stir, she lightly cupped his cheek. And there it was. Or rather, there it _wasn't_. She couldn't feel him anymore. Not really. Not in the comfortable way she had grown used to. The thread of their bond that had woven so strongly between them, was gone.

She knew without a doubt that the blanket over her senses was the result of her abilities removed. All of the normal human senses she had taken for granted, continuing even after her death, had been directly linked to her tie to him. She had felt normal, because of him. She had been kept under a spell - an illusion - that she was still alive.

Alex took her hand away, and hugged her arms into her chest. If this was what being a ghost was supposed to be like, then she'd swear she'd find her Door, and soon.

Except for Hal.

Gods, she loved him. Really, deeply loved him. Even after facing his darkness - after nearly being consumed by it herself, she still loved him. And now she truly knew that the tie of their bond had little to do with it. The anchor merely had supported the fall. She loved him for his strength, how he held himself in balance against his past. She loved him for his simple and blunt honesty, even over difficult things. She loved the mystery of him - that she could never know everything behind the age in his eyes. Nor would she want to. Because then she would be Done. "Send the Door," kind of done. There was no true knowing of Hal Yorke. Because it was somewhere in between the vampire and the man that lay a schism of who he really was. She loved him for that man, and the man he tried to be with her. Unguarded, open and true.

It just wasn't fair! For them to have come so far only to have everything so broken? This morning Hal had been happy - actually happy - like it was a strange and foreign thing. " _A most remarkable thing_ ," he had said. The memory of sensation washed over her - of water and touch and love - and Alex's sorrow threatened to bowl her over.

The only thought that saved her from sinking to the floor right then and there, was a what-if. What if she could take it back? What if she could undo their untangling? Alex reached out to take Hal's fingers. Cold, lifeless, and without their spark, it wasn't just that he was unconscious. It was that her path to him was severed. There was caked blood under his fingernails. Red sickles of carnage she couldn't help but acknowledge. Still, Alex closed her eyes, and sank her focus into him, searching.

There was nothing but blackness. She searched first one way, then another. _Fathomless black. Emptiness and blood._ Unable to find a single path through the dark, slowly, she pulled her consciousness back out.

Blood. It was the only clear thing she could sense from him. Maybe it was the only way back through? Alex still had Tom's balisong. She fished it out from her pocket, and switched open the blade. For a moment, she stood poised over Hal, uncertain of what she actually needed to do. In the past, she would grow stronger and more solid if she took on a bit of his blood. Maybe it was all that she needed? She opened his hand as much as she could against the binding of the strap. With a bite of her lip, she pressed the blade to Hal's palm. Then, she sliced.

Blood blossomed forth, a crisp red bead that started to run and Alex cupped her hand under his. The blood dripped, and hit the floor with a sad splat. It had fallen straight through - as if she wasn't there at all. Alex's breath caught in her throat. Her tears finally welled as she watched the wound rapidly heal, Hal's skin fusing back into place like a time-lapse video in reverse.

Alex backed away and sank all the way to the floor. She dropped the bloodied blade with a clatter next to her, and pulled her knees in close. The ever present weight of her boots was the only thing that felt real anymore. Even her brimming tears seemed to be happening to someone else as she stared at Hal, feeling an impossible distance. The steady rise and fall of his chest was a comfort to her amidst the surreality she now found herself in. That base instinct to keep breathing... Alex forced her own breath to match his rhythm. _Inhale, exhale._ She couldn't even feel the air that she breathed. _Inhale, exhale._ Was that merely an illusion as well? She supposed she had no use for breath anymore except for her own habit of being. _Exhale._

A soft knock made Alex quickly wipe her eyes and look up. The metal door swung open and Maggie studied Hal from the doorway, then glanced to Alex. "Have the withdrawals hit yet?" she asked abruptly.

Alex shook her head, unsure what Maggie meant. "He's out. They double dosed him with something, so how would I even be able to tell?"

"Oh, you'll be able to tell. Trust me," she cautioned, then stepped into the room. She took in Alex, sitting on the floor with a curious expression. "It won't last, you know. He's using that blood up to heal." Maggie stated bluntly.

"I know."

"Tis only a matter of time before he won't be able to control it again."

"I know," Alex repeated, sharper this time. It was then Maggie's eyes went to the knife on the floor.

"Are you… alright?" Maggie's voice exuded a cautioned concern. "I know a lot has happened tonight, but…"

Maggie paused when Alex shook her head. "That block you placed? It can be reopened, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I… It's gone. I turned it off, when he…" Alex faltered. She couldn't say it out loud.

Maggie furrowed her brow, then crossed the room and gestured for Alex's hand. Once Alex reached out, Maggie pulled her upright. Face to face, she closed her her eyes and held Alex's hand, searching. When she opened her eyes again, her expression was sorrowful. She drew Alex close into a gentle hug. "Oh, girlie. I am so sorry."

At the confirmation of what she already knew, Alex took a shaky breath and retreated from the woman's embrace. She would not cry. She would not. Maggie patted her hand and shook her head as she met Alex's eyes. "If you had held on, maybe. But once your blood was diluted…" Maggie let the thought trail off, then looked over to Hal. "There isn't anything left for you."

"So that's it then," Alex swallowed, coaxing down her tears. "There's no way to bring it back?"

"Dear - the two of you? It's uncharted territory. I just don't know. I've seen plenty of strange and miraculous things though, in my time," she offered, thoughtfully. "I'm curious," Maggie tilted her head, thankfully changing the subject. "How does he stop it?"

"Oh, er. He'll have to detox it out again. Last time, we had to keep him tied to a chair for a month."

"Oh," Maggie's forehead wrinkled. "Well, that's mighty unpleasant."

Alex huffed, "Yeah. It really is."

"There anything you need tonight? I'm sure they'll send someone to check in later, but we're a bit maxed out tonight. It could be awhile yet before he wakes in any case."

"Oh, er… thanks, but no, I guess," Alex answered, unsure of what could possibly help. "I've got a question though," she asked, and the old ghost paused with an open expression. "Castle. Even before I lost my moxy… My powers didn't work against him."

"Against Jonathan?" Maggie asked in return, surprised, then her eyes shifted to thoughtful. "Or was it against the weapon he carried?"

"I was trying to block a stake he had on Hal, yeah."

"This department has run on a limited budget for a very long time. Most of our weapons serve dual purpose."

Alex cocked her head, not understanding, so Maggie elaborated. "Castle's stake had an iron core. It was the weapon you couldn't poltergeist, not him. We're only human," Maggie shrugged. "Well, most of us anyway," Maggie smiled. "Look, I have to get back."

"Oh. I thought your part was done?"

"The vampires have all scurried - they don't stick around when there are loose werewolves about. We've just about got the park cleared, so it's time to "find" the bomb and let the residents return."

"And you're extra insurance so they don't ask questions?"

"Indeed."

"How does that work? Is it something you learn?"

"Is it something you feel you have to learn?"

Alex shook her head then shrugged, "Just curious, I guess. Nevermind."

"I've always been a psychic, but this was something the Department's last ghost taught me. It's like how you taste, only in reverse. You project what you want them to see. Most souls aren't strong enough to do it though, and it certainly takes some practise. You can bet your buttons I'll be cosied up watching my shows for a spell later."

"Oh, huh," Alex answered, thoughtful.

"You however, are a strong soul, m'dear. If you're interested, we could always use the help, you know."

"Oh, er…"

"Don't fret. You have other things to attend to, I know. All's I'm saying, is that you could still be needed, if things don't, well... you know," she cleared her throat with a glance to Hal. She seemed to ponder for a moment, searching for the right words. "Belonging somewhere, having a purpose? It keeps us from fading. You don't need to feel so lost, is all I'm saying."

Alex took a deep breath, startled and yet thankful for what the ghost was offering. "Good luck," she offered, changing the subject back. Maggie nodded, and started to leave. "And… Maggie?" Alex asked, and she paused in the doorway. "Thanks."

Maggie gave a soft smile, then left Alex alone with only Hal's unconscious company. The long night yawned forward, and Alex settled in to sift through her thoughts. She replayed everything she knew of Milo, and Jonathan Castle, but still couldn't make heads or tails of it all. At the end, it had seemed like Hal had Castle pegged. Like he knew the operative was behind it all somehow. But then, Rosanna had clearly come to collect Hal. Could Castle have been working with the vampires? Through Milo, she supposed it was possible. Really, anything was possible.

Some time later, Alex looked up when footsteps broke through the silence in the corridor. There were several pairs, and the creak of a door opening and hushed voices. Another metallic creak, then a thud and the bang of a door closing. The footsteps retreated, but then there was the close sound of a chair scraped against concrete, and another set of footfalls, clipped and even.

"Welcome back, sir." Alex could just barely make out Jim's muffled voice as he greeted the approaching footfalls. "All is well?"

"As to be expected," Rook's voice answered, sounding wearied before he opened the door. He did not knock. Paused in the doorway, Rook watched Hal warily for any signs of movement, then entered the space. He was carrying a bundle of items.

"Miss Millar?" he asked to the air. "You will be pleased to know your friends are safe. McNair and Larkin have been transported here." He paused, not quite looking at her. "I apologize. We normally treat those in service with more care." At first Alex thought he meant that something had happened to Tom or Allison, but instead, Rook indicated the bundle he was holding. A folded grey blanket and the edge of a shirt sat under a bottle of water.

"Mr. Yorke will be quite thirsty when he awakens, and may wish for a change of clothing," Rook said, setting his bundle on the floor. As he straightened, he extracted something else from the pile and held it up. A whiteboard. "And this is for you. I need to collect a statement, if you don't mind."

"From me?" She asked even though he offered the board forward.

"Miss Millar, in your own words please, what happened?"

Alex reached out and took the offered board and Rook nodded. He then extracted a marker wrapped in a fold of cloth from his shirt pocket and handed that over as well.

Quickly, Alex scribbled:  
 _You want me to write it all on this?_

"This is as close as we can have to a private conversation. I would like to be able to ask questions. Please, proceed."

Alex wiped away her first question with the cloth, the wrote another:  
 _WHY did you shoot Hal?_

Rook steeled his blue eyes and answered simply. "I thought my operative was in mortal danger. Jonathan had been with this Department for over fifteen years. My bias towards someone I helped raise…" His blue eyes flashed a hint of emotion that he quickly dampened. "It caused me to make a grave miscalculation. Which is why I need to understand what happened. How did you come to the knowledge that Jonathan Castle was working with Milo?"

Alex sighed, then cleared the board. It didn't really change anything, but knowing Rook hadn't acted out of hostility was a comfort. It meant that hopefully, he was still an ally. She hoped that they could trust him. And, she wanted to know the truth as well. She sat down, cross-legged at the foot of the trolley and tried to determine where to start. Recalling the scene when she and Hal had come upon Milo with Castle, Alex began to relay it all. She stuck to the facts and tried to describe what had happened as clearly as she could. When she would reach the end of the board, Rook would command "Hold," then take a photograph with his mobile. He would then give a nod and say, "proceed," and Alex would clear off the board and continue.

Rook asked a lot of questions. He made her repeat details that didn't seem relevant. Where had Milo been trying to go to when Castle was fighting Hal? Did Milo try to interfere at all? Where was the open lorry in relation to the fight? What exactly had Castle said? Was Alex absolutely certain that Rosanna didn't mention Milo or Castle? By the time Rook was satisfied, the eraser cloth was completely black.

He was jotting one last note onto a ledger, but she tried to hand the whiteboard back to him. He glanced at it, then resumed writing. "Please, keep it. Should you need, you can wave it in front of the door," he demonstrated, miming a rigid back and forth motion, "and we will be alerted. Hal can stay here as long as is necessary."

Alex glanced up to the camera. She had wondered why they bothered if vampires didn't show up on film. She quickly wrote out another line: _Thank you for helping him._

"Well," Rook glanced to Hal lying still, then back to the board. "Some of this was my fault. I should have -" he stopped, eyes flicking to Hal. "I _am_ sorry, Miss Millar."

Alex didn't know what to say to that. She doubted Rook was the type of person to apologise often. He pocketed his pen and collected himself, turning to go. He paused in the doorway however, and looked back to Hal. In that moment, backlit from the light in the corridor, Dominic Rook seemed painfully tired. He gave a deliberating sigh, then glanced down to the floor. "I suppose that I can tell you now," he said wearily. "Castle did not survive. We'll be questioning Milo as soon as it is possible."

Alex let the whiteboard fall on her lap. In stunned silence, she watched Mr. Rook depart, latching the door behind him.

So, there it was. Hal had killed Jonathan Castle.

She doubted that dying had been part of Castle's plan. To whatever end, they may now never actually know what that plan had been.


	36. Discernment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Thank you to those who have continued to be an unexpected compass with thoughtful feedback that has guided me onwards. Questions asked may not be answered directly, but they do let me know I'm hitting my mark._

Hal's body was betraying him. The tremors had started lightly, but soon built to a crescendo of shakes. One small consolation to Alex was that her cool touch seemed soothing against his heated skin, his body burning through the fresh blood in his system. Before, Hal had slipped into this slowly, the hunger and the pleading coming and going with declining lucidity. But he'd been unconscious this time, healing. Maggie's assumption had been correct. The withdrawals had come accelerated.

When it happened before, Alex nearly couldn't take it. She was going to leave - give up on finding her body for a bit and haunt her family up North. Hal wasn't going to be able to help her, and Tom had his hands full enough. But when the shakes began and Hal had gone feverish and ill, poor Tom had been beside himself, not knowing what to do. Alex had stepped in, mopped Hal's brow, tried to cool the fever that had nothing to do with a human illness and cleaned up when he was sick. Tom probably thought it was from looking after her little brothers; her mothering skills. Which, in part it was. But truth was, she had been unceremoniously trained in dealing with withdrawal sickness. She had gotten through it with her brother, over heroin.

This was a thousand times worse.

Because she knew that this was only the beginning. Because she knew what was coming. Because she couldn't bear to watch how Hal strained against his bonds, even while under the effects of the Department's drug. Because she loved him.

If the last time were any indication, the man she loved was surely gone. When they detoxed him before, it had only been a few small glassfuls. And that had taken _weeks_. This time, Hal killed someone. And he would have quite happily continued...

At least her presence wouldn't trigger his hunger anymore, Alex thought with sadness. She'd get them through this, and then she would think about what to do about that. Another quaking shake shuddered through Hal, and he ground his teeth, jaw muscles clenching. This was only the beginning of what the cravings would do to him, but everything was so different now between them. Alex almost couldn't bear to watch, but she would. She would stay and help Hal in any way that she could.

She took his hand, covering his fingers with hers. She placed her other hand on his brow, wishing she had the strength to untie him and hold him still herself. Her focus narrowed down to the tiny spray of blood spattered along Hal's jaw. Eight little spots that meant so much, and ultimately so little. Because, it didn't matter how much he had drank. The darkness had consumed him. He would have consumed her in turn, had she not stopped it. She had saved him, but now they were _both_ lost.

* * *

The slender vampire's ungainly slouch betrayed her state, with her head held in one manicured hand. The pint glass sat on the table, emptied with only the barest leg of blood remaining. Eyes hollowed and red-rimmed, her facilities hadn't yet returned. Rook set his file down, and the vampire started, jerking against the handcuffs.

"Do not be alarmed," he stated, and took the seat across from her. The chain between the manacles was just enough for humane movement, but short enough to keep her beyond reach. The clasp on her ankle insured that she remain seated for her interview.

"You're human," she uttered with a surprised glance towards the empty pint glass, then back to him. "Who are you?"

"My name is Dominic Rook, but that is not what you wish to know."

"What is this? Secret Service?" She scoffed shakily, and leaned back in the chair.

" _You_ were about to be a werewolf's dinner. Therefore, you are in our debt," Rook stated bluntly. The vampire merely raised one smooth eyebrow, but didn't look phased. "Why were you in Barry tonight? We weren't expecting you."

The vampire held his gaze with her dark blue eyes. Rook didn't look away. Eventually, she blinked, unsettled.

"That has nothing to do with you, little man," she snarled.

"Oh I beg to disagree. You'll find it is to your benefit to cooperate," Rook said, then opened his suit jacket to retrieve a stake. He placed it on the table, next to her file. She held his gaze, stubbornly silent and without acknowledgment of the threat.

Several moments passed. When he still did not break from their battle of wills, she placed her shackled hands on the table with a dramatic sigh. Then she shrugged one fine-boned shoulder. "I went to collect a debt."

"Whose?"

"Does it matter?" She asked, then continued to study him. " _Who_ are you?"

"I'm of no consequence, Miss Bellante."

Her eyes widened at his knowledge of her true name, and he tapped the file he had brought. "Born Rosanna Angeloni Bellante in 1796 to a merchant marine. Recruited in 1824 after your husband made a bad bet over a chess match, if my sources are correct. You ended your maker not long after, in revenge for your family's death. The very action however cemented your place in London's underground society. Consort to an Old One in the early 1950's, with a fall into obscurity for a time after, but now a rising power of the Council." The subject in question had gone very still, her eyes honed on the closed file. "Oh yes, we know who you are."

"So," she said with a tone somewhere between unsettled and angry. "What is it that you want?" All the colour had bleached from her words. The question was caustic.

"We have a proposition for you."

* * *

He was fire.

He was ash.

Hal Yorke never expected death to feel... _soft._ He was... _in a bed_?

His chin was against a woolen weave of blanket, and everything felt unnaturally comfortable. Movement was slow to come, but he felt a heavy pressure on his wrists, which informed him that his hands were manacled. Centuries of experience kicked reflexes, trained against capture, into high gear. _Push through the haze, observe_. The effort it took to open his eyes was hardly worth it. He was in a concrete box of a room. The only interruption to the grey was a single bulb that shone overhead in a metal cage. He wasn't in a bed, but a hospital trolley. Hal winced his eyes shut.

Hell was... minimalist.

Someone had removed his shoes, but they were still in the room. He could smell the wet leather. Or maybe that was the damp coat he was still wearing. He couldn't be certain, because underneath it all, was ash. _And blood._

He should _be_ ash...

There was an absence of something, that at first, his slow consciousness found difficult to place. He _was_ unnaturally comfortable. All of the pain, fatigue and old injuries had faded away. His leg no longer ached. Even his shoulder, from when Tom had dislocated it, no longer felt stiff.

He felt... _alive._

He took a breath, and could feel his chest expand against a binding, holding him down. With a sinking sense of doom, Hal crashed into a bleak awareness. _He wasn't dead. He had been staked, but he wasn't dead._ The sheer impossibility of it was met with another awareness, beating insistently on the back of his forehead, in the pit of his stomach. A terrible truth he couldn't yet face. All of the darkness he had shut out was _laughing_.

Hal shifted his attention to dredge over what little he knew, which did nothing to enlighten how he had come to be here, undead. He _remembered_ his death - the shock of being hit, the deep dousing of irony in realising what fates had aligned to finally bring his end. An ignition of a scorching agony from the inside out. The world cracking apart into fissures of pain and spirals of memory. An untangling. The desperation in Alex's screams... and... _nothing_.

Hal moved a finger, which seemed to comply, touching the reality of cool metal. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this truly was Hell. Because, something else was missing. His groggy head couldn't place it at first.

Alex. He couldn't sense her. _Anywhere_.

If he had died, shattered apart, then Alex would have lost her anchor. The anguished thought rocked through him. Could she have dispersed? Why couldn't he feel her? Panicked, Hal tried to sit up, straining against his bindings. Everything felt off. He was half drunk.

An apparition of movement, and she was beside him, bold as day. He tried to relay his relief when he said her name, but his voice came out hoarse.

"Shush. Lay back," Alex spoke gently as she pushed his shoulders down. "You've orders to stay put." She offered him water, guiding the edge of a plastic bottle to his lips. He would have refused on the principle alone, except he _was_ terribly thirsty. Gratefully, he drank and the cool water cleared away some of the ash.

Alex was looking on him expectantly, but with sadness. She took the water bottle away, screwing the cap back on and setting it aside. She asked almost hesitantly, "How are you feeling?"

Hal licked his lips and didn't know how to answer her simple question. _I'm_ _fine_ seemed innapropriate given the circumstances that he still couldn't grasp, so instead he asked in turn, "What happened?"

"I saved you," she answered plainly, even though an entire world of something else sat behind the sadness in her eyes.

"How? How in the name of -" he shook his head. "I was dead."

Alex gave a small shrug, as if to mean she didn't really know. "That piece of me in you? I... moved it."

Hal tried to calculate through what she meant, and how that would have saved him, at the same time he studied her. There was something else she wasn't saying. She seemed diminished somehow. Fatigued. And he really couldn't sense her. The thread that had stretched between them like such a physical thing… was gone. He raised his fingers in an attempt to reach her, and she looked down at the movement, but made no motion to answer him.

After a pause, he swallowed and asked, "Where?"

"Your heart. Where it was…" she stopped, seemingly unable to say it. "Then, we…" she looked away and Hal caught a strange hint of an expression. _Shame_ , he realised as she said, "We saved you."

What she left unspoken was all the verification he needed. Regardless of how he had survived being staked, there was little mystery as to why he felt the way he did. With excruciating admittance, he uttered, "I drank blood."

Alex still wouldn't meet his eyes. Her gaze bore into the space over his head, but she nodded. "How much?" he asked her, and she turned her face away entirely. "How _much_?" He repeated the question, horrified of the answer, but he knew. He didn't need Alex to tell him what he already knew was true. Just by the slackening of his ever-present hunger he knew - he had drained someone. Probably more. And the satisfaction of it had already faded.

Alex brought a hand to her neck, and in a flash, he could taste her. A wave of pleasure shivered through him in memory of the perfection of that neck, just before he tore into it. At the same time, the terrible truth that had rooted in the pit of his stomach swelled and completely overcame him. The darkness he had shut out had _won_. As it always did.

"No," he shook his head with the whisper, and pulled against his bindings in frustration. "Christ, no." Flashes, imprints and impressions were coming back through a red haze. A swell of hunger, so easily twisted into the justification of rage and revenge. He had let it take him. It would have taken her. He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes against it all with a shudder. "No, not you."

"Shh," Alex soothed his hair. Hal opened his eyes to see her biting her lip. "Hal, shh. It's o'er now."

"No," he turned his face away from her. "God, not again."

The anguish of his heart ran so deep that he may as well have been staked all over again. Alex was brushing her fingers through his hair while she kept a hand on his chest. He could barely feel her. He couldn't fathom what that meant. What surely, he must have done. He knew the fresh blood coursing through him was all that kept him from coming apart. It was blood that numbed emotion and armed his rising defenses.

"It won't be the same. I'll help you get through it," Alex continued, bravado in her voice. She was trying to convince herself as much as he. Hal started to shake his head but she forged ahead. "You can stay here. It's safe, secure. Rook said as long as it takes -"

"Rook," he spat darkly.

She faltered, and paused. "Hal, he didnae mean it. To him, it looked like -"

"I know what it looked like," Hal interjected, staring at the flat, concrete wall. His own walls were rising. " _A swift stake to the back because I looked at someone funny_ ," he gave a dark laugh at the irony. "The faith between us is nonexistent. Rook cannot trust me, and nor should he."

"That's not true. You weren't going to -"

"Really? Do you _really_ know that?" He asked harshly, and turned back. Alex's expression was immediately discounting, so Hal drove his point home. "Well, neither do I."

She shook her head. "No."

"Don't you see? It takes so little. It wins - it always does."

Alex furrowed her brow, and he caught the glimmer of tears. She blinked them away. "No, it doesn't. And you know it. You have a choice. You said so yourself."

"I am _very_ good at deluding myself Alex."

Alex huffed an exhale, and lifted her chin like she always does when she is pushing down her emotions. "Well, I must really be taking the mick too." She said it flatly, then held his gaze. "I'm not gonna let you give up. Not that easy," she shook her head. "This is my fault and I promised Tom I'd see it through."

"How could this be your fault? Jesus Alex."

"I got you to drink. I insisted it was the only way."

"Which doesn't make _anything_ I did afterwards your fault. That just makes you foolish."

"Dammit Hal - what'd you expect me to do, huh? Stand by and watch you die? _I love you_!"

He held her gaze, unflinching. She really was foolish. He knew that she meant it. His undeserving heart had hoped… but now, all he wanted was to sabotage it.

"And therein lies the problem," he answered pointedly. "Love isn't enough." She opened her mouth to rebut him, but then stopped, at a loss with her brow furrowed.

"I've killed everyone I've ever loved," he continued acerbically, stating the facts. " _Everyone_. I can't win. I can't beat this."

"But you can't kill me Hal. I'm already dead," her rationalisation came out in a whisper.

"We both know that isn't true. I already did."

She gave a small gasp, her eyes flashing in anger and disbelief, but the creak of a door and footsteps interrupted the rebuttal she was trying to formulate.

A nearby and unknown voice raised in protest, "I'm sorry sir, but -"

Tom's assertive tone interrupted. "I've gotta go in there. No point stopping me."

"But, I must insist that -" the guard protested, even as the lock turned. The heavy door swung open to reveal Tom's silhouette. Hal lifted his shoulders off the trolley as best he could to see his friend stride unharmed into the room. He was wearing a matching set of loose grey cotton trousers and vest. A hospital uniform.

Alex leapt up, turning away from Hal and caught Tom in a fierce hug. He hugged her back heartily, and Hal wondered what else had happened to them last night. Their guard, a sleepy looking young man in a rumpled Departmental-grey suit, stood in the doorway with an armed crossbow at his side.

Ignoring the lingering guard, Tom looked over Alex's shoulder. His relief was written all over his soiled face. "You did it - you saved 'im!"

Alex took a step back. "Where's Allison?" she asked in an attempt to steady herself.

"Cross the way. She's not awake yet." Tom answered simply, then took a good look at Alex, his eyes narrowing, "S'wot's wrong now?"

"Nothing," she said far too quickly, then sighed. "Hal is being maudlin," Alex switched tactics with a barbed huff.

"I most certainly am not." Hal muttered to the ceiling. He was relieved that Tom and Allison were both alright, but the timing of this little reunion couldn't have been more awkward.

"Nope. Definitely being Eeyore," Alex razzed flatly, then crossed her arms over her chest.

"Who?" Hal could tell from her tone that this was one of those cultural references he should know, which only increased his irritation.

"Hal, mate - you survived being staked. Be happy for once?" Tom said it sardonically, but then he smiled again. "How _are_ you doing? Healed, yeah? I ain't seen nothin like it before." Tom stepped closer and he brought the overwhelming scent of stale wolf with him. "I mean - you was cracking. Gone, for sure. But Alex stopped it! We'll just have to detox it outta ya again," Tom said decisively. "No food, no drink," he instructed with a backwards glance to the guard in the doorway. "It's safe in here, yeah?

"Unless someone comes barging in," the guard barbed grumpily, then moved out of the doorway.

Hal sighed and rolled his eyes. Then looked to Alex. "Can you at least allow me the decency of sitting up if we're going to discuss this?" Alex pursed her lips, then dropped her arms. She took a step towards the trolley.

"That would not be advisable," Rook's voice preceded him. Even with Alex's brief explanation, the sight of the man in the doorway still caused Hal a flash of rage. She must have guessed because she took a few steps backwards to stand alongside the trolley. "I need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Yorke. Tom, good morning. If you'll please excuse us? There are facilities at the end of the corridor, if you care to refresh."

Apparently, even Rook could smell the wolf on Tom. However, it still wasn't sufficient to mask the human's scent in the room. But if Rook insisted on speaking with him, Tom's presence could help. "No," Hal negated with a shake of his head. "Tom stays."

Tom looked between Rook and Hal, then stuck his bottom lip out pensively as he came to realise why Hal wanted him to stay. Then he shrugged. "Yeah, I think I'll stay."

"Tom?" Allison's called from the corridor, and Rook gave an exasperated sigh. She came up in the doorway, hair frizzed, her glasses missing and wearing the same grey uniform as Tom. The Department must have left the garments for his werewolf friends to find upon waking, Hal mused. Allison peered into the room, her eyes trying to focus. "Everyone alright?"

Tom beamed a wide grin and made to step towards her as Rook shook his head irritably. "Yes Miss Larkin. All are accounted for. Now," he tried to resume his control over the room as Allison joined them. Thankfully, her scent was nearly as as strong as Tom's. The addition to the cacophony of heartbeats wasn't helping however. Hal lowered his head and slowed his breathing. Idly, he wondered how much longer he really had. Mentally he started counting the hours.

"Did you find a human at the park?" Allison asked, her question insistent.

"Aside from ourselves, Miss Larkin?"

Allison continued, ignoring the obviousness of Rook's statement. "Near me, there was a man. A human man. Five foot nine, brown hair?"

"Everyone from the park was relocated. The only ones left human-shaped were some half chewed vampires." Rook answered. Hal caught that Alex blanched at Rook's bluntness.

"I saw someone. Right before I transformed. It was Vinicius!" Allison had the excited quality to her voice that came on when she was sleuthing something out. Hal raised his head again.

"The anthropologist?" Rook asked the same question on Hal's mind, in surprised disbelief. "His ghost was here?"

"No, that's the thing. I saw a ghost walk out of him, and then he dropped to the ground. How is that even possible?" Allison asked, wondering, but Rook had gone very still. If anything, he seemed paler than usual.

"What exactly did you see, Allison?" Hal asked. A foreboding sense, worse than he felt already, was dropping through his stomach.

"Just like I said. Right before I turned, I saw Vinicius. And then he wasn't Vinicius anymore. I blacked out after that," she concluded, then turned back to Rook. "But you really didn't find him?"

"Not a human, no. Nave is still finishing the report as we speak, but it was only werewolves that were accounted for before we relocated everyone. I would have been alerted otherwise."

"I believe you will find a very confused, but living anthropologist wandering the woods this morning," Hal uttered.

"You think he faked his death?" Alex asked.

"No, I would wager that he has zero recollection of where he's been or how he arrived here." At Hal's statement, Rook met his eyes.

Allison looked to Hal, then Alex. "Can a ghost possess a person? I didn't think that was real."

Alex shrugged. "Don't look at me."

"Some… do," Rook admitted with hesitation.

"We done got to go to the woods - to the wolves. We got to tell them something," Tom interrupted.

"You don't have to tell them a thing, Mr. McNair," Rook replied, but there was relief in his tone for the turn of conversation.

"Course I do," Tom looked to Hal as if he was seeking back up to his argument.

"They will already be finding out the truth, as we speak."

"The truth?" Tom spoke the same question as Hal.

"That the vampires led the chase, and relocated them," Rook answered plainly.

"Excuse me?" Hal knew he had been incapacitated, but he hadn't thought he had missed _that_ much.

"It was a pair of our own that left the trail, but still. Conclusions will be drawn."

Tom's eyebrows raised in understanding. "So they'll be waking up and smelling vampires in the woods and think -"

"Exactly. The vampires do not wish for their secrets getting out, so…"

Hal shook his head. "Just how long have you people been playing us against each other?"

"Long enough to keep word of your kind embedded as superstition of the dark ages," Rook barbed.

"Except… Irving. And Christa. They know the real _actual_ truth. There weren't a way around it," Tom admitted, looking down to his bare feet, then back to Rook. "And I sorta told Irving he could fill in Gwedore."

Rook stared back at Tom, his blue gaze turned to ice. "And do you think that he will?"

Tom sheepishly shrugged. "I've got no reason to think he won't. Cept maybe to wait for me and Allison."

Rook's silence emphasized that he was clearly furious. Hal elected that moment to steer the conversation back to a potentially more threatening issue. "This ghost," he aimed the question to Allison. "Was he familiar?"

Allison shook her head. "No. I've never seen him before."

"I think you have landed on the missing piece of the puzzle," Hal uttered, vindicated. "Your boy was working with a ghost, Rook."

"How you figure?" Alex asked.

"Castle declared he was working for himself. Milo clearly was working with him, but what of their motivations? How could they manage - even between the two of them, to detonate bombs across the country and rally a Route?" Hal lowered his head and continued, staring up into the concrete ceiling. "Castle had access to lists of known werewolves, and Milo could have been made privy to the Old Ones' holdings enough to strategise, but how could they possibly have executed it all? Castle had assignments here during that timeframe. Milo's whereabouts were unknown, but I doubt he could have passed through all of those guarded locations without raising suspicion after Snow's death."

"And what does all that have to do with a geek-snatching ghost?" Alex quipped, impatient for him to get to the point.

"Vinicius - a man reported dead after exploring a little too close to Lobisomem territory - appears here in the thick of everything at the final hour. Logic dictates Allison's Brazilian acquaintance has become what he sought, only he did not arrive in Wales of his own volition. The choice of Vinicius as a host is too much of a coincidence to be unconnected. Therefore, this ghost is deeply involved."

"Yes but who is he? And, more importantly, why?" Rook asked.

"You have to find Vinicius. If it isn't already too late," Hal concluded. "Possession isn't something lightly, or easily achieved," he answered the curiosity in Alex's demeanour. "This is likely an old ghost we are dealing with."

The hurried approach of clipped footfalls carrying a rapidly beating heart signaled the arrival of yet another human to the cramped room. Hal closed his mouth and his breath against the increasingly irritated itch of his hunger. The white-haired gentleman Rook had introduced Hal and Alex to darkened the doorway. The Archivist.

"May I request a word, sir?" Arthur was abrupt, glancing around the room with open discomfort.

"Now?" Rook seemed surprised by his Archivist's intrusion. This was apparently something unprecedented. "What is it?"

Arthur wrung his hands, giving another glance to Tom, Allison and the shackled trolley before he launched resolutely into what he needed to tell Rook. "The light was on in sector nine, sir." The elder man paused and Rook narrowed his eyes. This hardly seemed information worthy of such an expression, but the Archivist continued. "I've turned that light off for thirty-seven years…"

"Go on," Rook encouraged, but with a tone that suggested he was already guessing at news he did not wish to hear.

"Now, I only took a cursory inventory before I came to inform you. Nowhere near thorough, mind you. Not without days of cross referencing could one really be certain," Arthur mused.

"Yes, Arthur?" Rook's question had grown urgent.

"Erm… well. The access log shows it was Jonathan Castle who came in last night, not long after the full moon. But everyone knows he was in the field."

"Easy enough for his access card to have been compromised. What else Arthur?" Rook seemed accustomed to this roundabout way of getting to the point, but Hal was growing irritated. His back had begun to itch profusely from healing, just under the shoulder blade where the bolt had gone through. He yearned to have his hands free to reach it. That and the errant bits of gravel he could feel in his hair. And he was hungry, but he tried not to think about that.

"I long since have thought if evidence were to be taken, what it would be. And…" Arthur paused with a sad sigh. "It appears to have been taken, sir."

Hal couldn't help but notice that Rook's heartbeat jolted an increase. "The Formation?" he asked, eyes widened.

"Yes, exactly. Those files appear to be misplaced, and some of the specimens. Someone has infiltrated the Archive."

Rook's face fell and he immediately pushed past Arthur to address the guard. "I need you to check the holding cell."

"Mr. Turner, sir?" The guard questioned with confusion.

"Just go! Radio back what you see," Rook barked the order and the guard departed without further question, launching into a run.

"What has Richard got to do with this?" Tom asked, his face befuddled.

"Let us hope nothing. If he is indeed still with us," Rook answered, darkly. "Arthur, you were correct to bring this to my attention straight away. Resume your analysis, please. I will send along assistance as soon as possible."

"Thank you sir," Arthur replied, then departed just as quickly as he had arrived.

"I don't understand - what do you think was taken, exactly?" Allison interjected.

The static of a radio cut in, and Rook retrieved the device from the inside pocket of his jacket without answering her.

"Um… sir?" the tinny voice on the other end broadcast hesitantly.

"Copy," Rook answered, his blue eyes piercingly distant while they all listened acutely to the static on the radio.

"Turner is missing, sir."

With a flash of blinding clarity, it all fell into place as Rook's face crumpled. Hal had been right, without knowing the reasoning. They _all_ were distracted from the truth in exactly the way the culprit had wished, and Rook had been played a fool.

Hal had told Rook days ago that he couldn't fathom why the wolves would go to all this trouble. Why Barry? he had asked. But it hadn't been Barry or a fight with the vampires they were after _at all_.

It was the Archive.


	37. His Majesty's Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._  
>  _Many of my carefully woven threads come together in this chapter. Grab a cuppa and cosy up, for it's a long one. I hope you enjoy the delightful reveals…_

Rosanna had been boring her gaze into the polished surface of the table, but looked up when he opened the door. Pure relief swept across her features. "Thank Christ - how did you get in here?" Her eyes darted towards the hall. "No matter. I think he'll be back soon. Do you have the key?" She extended her bound wrists.

Spike opened his jacket and retrieved a flask. He took a seat across from Rosanna, then placed the flask on the table. He slid it over.

"What are you doing? Let's go."

"I thought you'd be thirsty," was all he said.

"Of course I'm thirsty. That's why I need to get out of here. I could eat a village."

"They're not going to let you leave," Spike stated, his tone as pragmatic as he could muster. Rosanna gave him a hard stare in return. Spike didn't blink. It was crucial that he not look away. Just as intently as she was staring him down, he returned her gaze coolly. "Zanna, please. Tell them what they want to know. They've been watching. All of us."

Her stare hardened, her expression turning into a sneer of distaste. "I should have known," she tutted. "Oh, _Steven_ ," she drawled out his name. "You always aimed to please, didn't you? Just how long have you been playing their little spy?"

"Long enough to believe in what they do," he answered quickly, with conviction. Rosanna blinked - a small pause in her incensed countenance, so he pressed on. "Rosanna... They didn't have to save you."

"I don't care if they scraped me off the pavement. I'm not going to risk everything I've worked for just to slip information to a bunch of _humans_."

Spike held her gaze for a long time. Every second that she kept her unwavering silence only increased his sadness. Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Yeah, well doll, I tried to tell them you'd feel that way." Spike pushed his chair back, the metal rasping against concrete, and stood. "You should have let the past stay past. I'm sorry it came to this, Rosanna."

"Wait," her eyes narrowed. "You're just - what? Leaving me here? Steven, darling -"

Spike looked back, and stared into her pleading eyes. Those hypnotisingly blue eyes that had tripped him up so many times before…

Her expression faltered with a hint of apprehension. Second-guessing everything she thought she knew about him, no doubt. Spike had finally stopped caring about her opinion. For once, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Spike walked away, and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Nave was nearly finished with his report from the werewolf relocation operation, when his phone chimed the announcement of yet another text from Maggie Dan. He grimaced. _Just because ghosts didn't need to sleep…_ Nave wasn't sure what he had done to adopt her favour for haunting, but he had. Still, he tapped the screen to read.

_Need lab access before you go. Two minutes?_

Nave glanced over his shoulder, suddenly knowing the Department's ghost must have been watching.

"Now, huh? It can't wait?"

The resounding silence and lack of a floating mobile must have meant she already assumed he would meet her there. Nave sighed heavily, then stood. He collected his jacket and patted the pocket for his keys. Home, a good meal and a long sleep beckoned after this.

* * *

"Wait," Allison prodded with a pondering expression. "So someone broke into the Archive, absconded with files _and_ Richard Turner? Why would they go through all that trouble to set off a bunch of bombs then? Why didn't they take Richard from his office and save all the fuss?"

"Or, your pal Dick is actually the nut job behind all this," Alex muttered, glancing at Hal, but he didn't acknowledge her suspicion. Pensive, he appeared to be awaiting Rook's response.

"Because, Miss Larkin," Rook's voice sounded slightly shocked, his normally clipped speech slow, like he was working it all out as he spoke. "They weren't after Mr. Turner as an individual. If Arthur's instinct is correct, then they were after Turner's past, and what that past once stood for. The bombings were merely to insure the distraction for us all."

"To distract you from what?" Tom asked, sounding only mildly curious. Even Alex could hear his stomach growling. His wolf hadn't gotten its usual chicken dinner.

"Ourselves, Mr. McNair."

Allison's eyes widened, "The Archive."

"Exactly," Rook nodded. "This was orchestrated by someone who knows how we work. They knew precisely what to do in order for us to capture Mr. Turner, and keep him in holding. And then they knew _exactly_ how to give us a big enough distraction to pull every single one of our operatives out into the field."

"The Department has been compromised! You have a… a double agent!" Allison concluded excitedly.

"Castle," Hal acknowledged. It was the first thing he had said in some time. Rook's mouth hardened into a line, clearly still having difficulty thinking of his operative in that way. "Yet, it still doesn't make sense. Richard wouldn't do this - it isn't his style," Hal glanced at Alex in answer to her question. "He likes his comforts far too much to have volunteered for this." Returning his eyes to Rook, Hal continued, "However, if Richard _isn't_ involved… I fail to see how he would be connected."

"And you wouldn't. Turner himself likely doesn't know. He has, historically speaking, been a rather charmed and protected individual. Ever since he let the proverbial cat out of the bag on Parliament in 1641."

"What do you mean? Parliament never found out about vampires. We would have heard of…" Allison trailed off as she furrowed her brow and began to pace the small room. When she looked up, it was with an excited grin and a victorious laugh. "You're all here because of him? Holy molasses! That's -"

"What? That's crackers!" Tom interrupted, his eyebrows shooting skyward.

"Richard Turner broke cover under a very delicate situation. The religious fervor of the day was a tinderbox tied to the political field, in which Mr. Turner was a much bigger player than history tells, because we all but erased him. The event led to the Protestation, which unfortunately triggered the bloody Civil War."

"I thought the Protestation was an attempt to _avert_ the Civil War?" Allison argued, quickened by her practised debate skills and and her zeal for history.

"It was a bill that required men of every Parish to swear an oath of allegiance to King Charles and the Church. From that point onwards, it was forbidden to hold a state office without signing."

Allison's eyes grew wide. "And oaths had to be sworn in the presence of a Holy cross… It was a country-wide sweep for vampires!"

"They very well couldn't have admitted that a _devil_ was able to infiltrate the very core of moral values. Fortunately, the group who actually witnessed Richard's act was very small. The committee would eventually go on to create an army outside of the control of Parliament. They invented a cover story quickly. Richard Turner had escaped and was never seen or heard from again. But those who witnessed him manifest were forever changed. Knowing that vampires not only were real, but could be anyone, anywhere at anytime - that they weren't reduced to the folklore of night times and back-country reaches - well! Something had to be done. An alliance was formed that would be the beginning of what you see today. Defenders - the guardians of a secret so heretical that it would have shook the foundations of the earth, had it been revealed."

"But someone wishes to reveal us now," Hal stated, returning the conversation to the present.

"Not just the existence of vampires, no. If Arthur's suspicions are correct, they could have all the proof they need to blow the entire supernatural world, including its guardians, out of the water."

"What could possibly be proof? You just said it was all erased," Allison prodded.

"His Majesty's Gift, Miss Larkin. Our Formation documents, along with the very first archive. That archive contains eyewitness accounts from several reputable figures, sworn signatures of secrecy, and one small portrait as a record of the first known vampire. And now they have the man behind that portrait to prove the deed."

"So? Portraits get forged all the time. That still doesn't prove the existence of -"

"The portrait is by Rembrandt, Miss Larkin. It will be evaluated, and proven true."

Hal suddenly huffed a dark laugh, and Alex shot him a look as he shook his head. "Richard and his god-damned _art collection_ is what finally dooms us? Jesus," he cursed, then dropped his head heavily against the gurney's mattress.

"This isn't merely revenge on vampires. This is to expose our entire mission," Rook held up his radio. "I have to go."

"We've been blind," Hal continued, shaking his head and giving Rook pause. "The Route - the Park? It wasn't merely to distract your Department, or get as many werewolves as possible in one location. Christ! It was to film _you_."

"No, we disabled all the cameras at the Park. That's not possible," Rook's answer was calm even though there was a hint of doubt in his voice.

"You disabled the ones that were already there. But what of ones that were set afterwards? Milo easily could have. Your _own operative_ easily could have."

Rook's complexion paled even more so than usual. Allison theorized on another angle, however. "Where could one go with that kind of footage though? Who would believe enough to even listen?"

"That's a very good question. One we do not have the luxury of time to debate," Rook answered. "I have to rally those still here. Our work isn't yet done. We'll see if we can locate and track those cameras, because I fear you are correct." Rook concluded, then clicked on his radio. "Nave, do you copy?"

Static hissed, then clicked off. There was reluctance in the reply. "Copy. I'm nearly finished here with -"

"Nevermind that for now. Were there any subjects present last night that we have yet to catalogue?" Rook asked.

"Yes, a few, sir."

"Good. Send me the report on those individuals. One of them very well may be Vinicius de Rocha Batista, whom I need you to research. And Nave?"

"Yeah?"

"Put a message out for all those able-bodied and still in the area. We have need of a team to return straight away."

"Half of 'em already went east this morning."

"I am aware. It is imperative that we locate cameras that were potentially placed after our sweep. In the meantime, I will see what I can get out of our hostage. As I will be indisposed, I must request for you to transport two subjects on your way back to town."

"Is that all, sir?" Nave's displeasure wasn't disguised by the static of the radio.

"Yes. Thank you, Nave."

Rook pointedly looked back to Hal. "We may yet have need of your expertise, Mr. Yorke. Can I get you another flask, or will you be able to control yourself?"

"I'm fine," Hal growled the answer.

Rook raised an eyebrow sharply, but didn't comment further. Instead he turned to Tom. "Mr. O'Meara needs to be convinced that secrecy is of uttermost importance. And Conal Gwedore, if he has already been told. I would visit them this morning myself, except there appears to be matters of even greater urgency that I must attend to."

Tom nodded, "A'ight. We'll go first thing."

Rook kept his eyes locked on Tom momentarily, then apparently believing Tom would follow through, he added, "Nave will organize your transport home. His office is above us, one level." Rook paused, then addressed the room as a whole. "I extend my gratitude for your service to the cause. Now, if you'll please excuse me."

Rook departed, but his voice carried from the corridor. "Jim, I will need you to keep this post for awhile longer. Your replacement is being reallocated to the field. May I borrow your chair?" he asked and they heard the guard stand.

Tom cleared his throat, then glanced to Hal. "So I suppose we're heading out to go see 'bout Gwedore. You need anything at all, mate?"

"I'm fine," Hal grumbled, repeating the same terse response he had given Rook.

Tom stared at his friend for a bit, knowing he wasn't fine, but not sure what else to do about it.

Allison took his hand, clasping his fingers in hers with a gentle squeeze. "We'll be back in just a few hours, Tom."

"Yeah, alright. In a bit then." Tom turned to go but Alex stepped forward to stop them in the doorway. The guard was leaning against the wall and observing them, but he took a sudden interest in the floor when the two werewolves paused.

"Tom?" Alex asked once they were in the hall. She glanced quickly back into the room, then whispered. "There's something else wrong."

"What? No. He's healing right up - see?"

"No. Something is broken. I can't -" she stuttered off, unable to say it. Tom waited patiently for her to continue. "I can't... feel him anymore."

"What? Like he's already gone mental?" Tom asked in an alarmed whisper.

"No - well, God, I dunno. But -" she toed the concrete floor with her boot. "I can't feel this either." At his befuddlement, she caught the sleeve of Tom's shirt, pulling at the fabric. "Or this. It's like…"

"Like... you're a ghost?" Allison asked, her worry creasing her face as she tried to focus her eyes more fully on Alex.

" _What_?" The drawn out, single word question from Hal did little to hide his feelings. Or the fact that he could hear them perfectly well.

"I… broke it off. I had to. You were going to…" Alex started and stopped.

"That, is by far the wisest thing you've done in months."

Hal's voice came out as detached as she had felt earlier. Alex just stared into the open doorway. The barb was a defense on his part, she knew. But she also knew that her pain was written all over her face. _Goddamn him!_

Allison clued into what it all meant sooner than Tom, and her eyes widened, "Oh, Alex…" She stepped forward and gave Alex a swift hug, which she couldn't really feel. After a moment, she pulled away.

Tom's chin hardened, concern evident on his face. His eyebrows met as he glanced through the doorway, towards Hal, but then he looked down at his bare feet. Awkwardly, Tom's hands sought pockets that his hospital trousers didn't possess. Eventually he just hooked his thumbs on the bottom of his shirt. "So... you're gonna stay here then?"

Alex hesitated, but then nodded. Their impromptu meeting with Rook had interrupted things between her and Hal. She had wanted Tom's advice on what to do, but realised how foolish that was. Tom could help chain his friend down, and would determinedly detox the monster that was sure to come, but she couldn't expect him to know what to do beyond that.

"Alex…" Tom began with discomfort, then raised an arm to run his hand over his head. "We don't know how long it'll be this time."

"Doesn't matter," she replied, with another quick glance into the room.

"Last time, it was just barely a pint, you know? This was… a lot more."

"I know," Alex answered simply, then bit her lip.

Tom squared his jaw with an exhale, then nodded. "Call us, okay? If'n you need?" he insisted. "We'll be back later."

Allison nodded. "If there's anything at all that will help, just say it. Maybe there's an artifact, or potion or something? Maybe it's not irreversible?"

"Maybe," was all Alex could muster in reply to Allison's hopeful ideas. She watched Tom and Allison leave, their hands automatically reaching for each other as they went to seek the stairwell that would lead them out.

The guard, Jim, straightened his posture and came towards the doorway. With a start, Alex realised that he meant to shut it. She slipped inside before he did.

Hal was stoically silent as the lock clicked home.

"Hal?" she said softly. She had wanted to continue their conversation before telling him that she had lost the thread. She had wanted to make sure he was okay first. Even without their connection, she could sense that he wasn't. Whether his silence stemmed from anger or sadness though, she wasn't certain. "I tried. To put it back? But… I haven't found the way yet."

Instead of answering, Hal took a deep breath, then closed his eyes wearily. Alex watched him for a moment, but when it seemed he really wasn't going to answer her, she bit her lip and leaned against the wall. Maybe she should have gone with Tom & Allison, after all.

* * *

Rook entered the cell, his mobile activated to record in his pocket. The subject was chained and sitting cross-legged with his back to the concrete wall. Thankfully, he was wearing the grey trousers they had provided.

"I trust you know where you are." Rook stated as he placed the chair, then sat down. Milo's eyes followed as Rook brought out his pen and notepad. "I trust you also know why."

Rook met the dark man's eyes and held them. Milo kept his silence, studying him with an impassive expression. "And," Rook continued. "You know who I am. Let us cut to the chase, shall we? You have certain intel that we need."

"Castle's dead, ain't he?"

Just as Milo had schooled his expression, so did Rook. Without acknowledging the question at all, he continued as if Milo hadn't spoken. "Jonathan Castle familiarized you with our ways, I presume? You will tell me what I wish to know, one way or the other."

"I worked for Snow you nit. There's little you could do that hasn't already been done."

"Oh, that I don't doubt. But rather than going through the messy process to find out, I have a proposition for you."

Milo's hard stare did not change. "Milo Jenkins, if you can cooperate and prove your usefulness, I am prepared to offer you an opportunity. Or, we can bring out our little specialties. Your fate is your choice."

Reluctantly, and without enthusiasm, Milo asked, "What kind of opportunity are we talking?"

"One of further and continued intel. One that you could retire into, if you wished. We know of the events that led you to seek out employment with the Old Ones. All of that _can_ be erased. Files can go missing, charges dropped. We can make your transgressions disappear far more thoroughly than the vampires." There was a long silence while Milo studied him. Rook was prepared to wait.

"How much do you need to know?" Milo finally asked.

"Tell me everything you can about your dealings with the Lobisomem."

Milo smiled, flashing his teeth. "Well that's easy. I don't have any."

Rook failed to hide his startlement. "The plans to expose supernaturals and this very Department -"

"Have little to do with the Lobisomem," Milo laughed. "If you can't figure that out Mr. Rook, then you don't deserve my cooperation."

"This ghost then," Rook said and Milo raised his chin with the barest flicker of recognition. "The one who has possessed and kidnapped the Brazilian anthropologist," Rook stated as he leaned forward. "The Lobisomem Alpha had been possessed as well."

"You're getting warmer," Milo gave Rook a sly grin. "But you should be talking to Jonathan, not me."

"I'm talking to you. What is your end goal? What was in this for you?"

"The same thing you just offered, Mr. Rook. When it came down to it though, Castle couldn't keep his vengeance in his pants. Your bloke's hatred of vampires was impressive."

"The things I were unaware of about Jonathan are proving to be most unfortunate," Rook said after a brief silence. "Exposure really was the end game here. But why would you want that?"

"Have you ever done something terrible that you didn't intend, Mr. Rook?"

Rook was silent, so Milo continued. "I imagine in your line of work, yes, you can understand. You see, if the whole world suddenly knew about werewolves, then I'd be free. Those I had killed would become yet more casualties of an extensive and fallible coverup. So either way this went down, I would have my redemption. I never set out to be a murderer, Mr. Rook."

"You want forgiveness for what happened."

"No," Milo shook his head. "Forgiveness is something I'll never have. I just want for those grieving to understand - that I didn't _know_. I didn't believe it. Not until the next morning, surrounded by the carnage." Milo paused; the large man was still shaken by the memory. "Before I met Castle, all I wanted was to be free of it. Now though? I want the world to know of the lies, same as he."

"Yes," Rook agreed, eventually. "We are fallible, and for that I am truly sorry. However," Rook tapped his pen against his knee and righted his posture. "I see it as all the more reason for you to help us. You can take action to keep it from happening again, to someone else's family." At his statement, Milo took a deep breath, shifting his gaze to the concrete. "The cameras that you set last night," Rook continued his questioning. "Where do the feeds go?"

Milo huffed. "Maybe we can work together afterall. Sadly, you're too late, mate. That footage was sent to Channel 4 in real time. The broadcast station in Cardiff should be receiving a _very_ interesting parcel to their newsroom this morning to corroborate that strange footage."

Rook paled and stood quickly, retrieving his radio. "Nave, do you copy?"

Milo laughed. "So, do I get breakfast before you all go dashing off, or what?"

But Rook was already out the door.

* * *

By the time Allison and Tom made it to the car park after changing and picking up breakfast, the Gwedores were clearly packing up. Maude was pulling down their clothesline while Conal was loading camp wood into the bin at the back of the campervan.

"And now ye show up," Conal grumbled.

Tom passed the box of scones he was carrying to Allison, then put his hands in his pockets. "So, Irving told you then?"

"Course he told me. The lad's perplexed. As he's the right to be. Why didn't you just tell us from the start you had no interest in any of it?"

"Cuz it's not like that."

Conal turned to face them both, clearly angry. "Then what is it like, McNair?"

"We didn't want anyone to get hurt. Including _people_ people. And I really did want to help werewolves, is all. But the world can't know bout us. Not yet. Normal folk won't welcome us."

"There'd be mobs. And lynchings," Allison added, then opened the lid of the pastry box.

Conal glanced towards their offering of breakfast, then shook his head. "I wasn't expecting to be welcomed," he huffed.

"Then what did you expect, exactly? To get your family killed? Or caught?" Silence stretched after Allison's argument until abruptly, Maude brushed her hands off on her apron then stepped inside. Conal watched her go.

"Gods, no. I just…" Conal shook his head. "It was a chance to take back some control. To not be so slotted into our fates."

"But you already got that, Mr. Gwedore," Tom said, then took a scone from Allison. "You can make your own choices. Do anything, be anyone. We're more than our wolves." Almost as if to make his point, Tom took a huge bite from his scone.

"Aye, but the wolf be more than us sometimes," Conal said, watching Tom.

Tom agreed, chewing thoughtfully while Conal resumed his packing. Tom cleared his throat, wishing they had thought to pick up tea with their scones. Maybe that was why Allison was sensibly waiting to have hers. "So where are you going to go?"

"Wherever we damn well please!" Conal answered gruffly. "Because apparently, we're all protected. Turns out we don't have to try so hard not to be discovered. Turns out we could be living in a nice house just like yourself and not always be on the move like this."

"True. You could. But you still can't let the wolf run loose. It aint right."

"Aye. Agreed. Not much point making more of us now is there?" Conal grumbled, then he sighed. With an air of inevitability, he ambled towards them and took an offered scone. Before he took a bite, he asked, "Why _didn't_ you tell us, lad?"

Tom shrugged. "I didn't think I'd need to. No one knew 'bout them before. Seemed it would keep on going that way. You tell any of the others?"

Conal paused, scone mid-air, and met Tom's gaze. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. "Nae. What's the use in that? We're all leaving. Dispersed. They all may come together yet again - I heard word of one o'them starting an online chat group! But we've all got lives - jobs, families and what-have-you's - to get back to."

Tom nodded thoughtfully, then continued eating, relieved that Conal seemed to be telling the truth. "So, where's Irving and Begley?"

"Irving and the lass went to fetch his brother. We're never gonna hear the end of it for locking him in last night. But then, they be doing their usual brunch feast. Young ones like that have to eat a lion's share to recuperate. As you know."

"Yeah," Tom smiled. "Know where they were going?"

"Eh, yeah. Corner place not far from here - down on Alexandra Road."

"Cafe on the Corner?" Allison asked with recognition.

"Yeah, that's the one."

Tom's grin widened. "Thanks Conal. Say - if you're ever back in town, you'd be welcome to-"

"What? Stay with you lot?" Conal shook his head. "Your vampire friend has changed my views somewhat, but still. I'll keep to mine own, thanks."

Tom stood, brushed his hands off on his trousers, then extended a handshake to Gwedore. "Sorry I had to lie to ya and that."

Conal raised an eyebrow, then reached to accept Tom's hand. "You're a good man, Tom McNair. You take care of yourself."

* * *

It was with perfect control and politeness that Hal finally broke his silence. "Alex, could you please untie me?"

She shook her head, still staring at the door. "Not really a good idea, right? Rook -"

"Rook has much more important things to worry about," Hal stated. "Besides, there isn't anyone left in here for me to hurt." She turned her head quickly at that. "Right," he confirmed.

"Look, Hal, I -"

"I'd like to assess things before I'm strapped down for a month, if you don't mind. And remove this damnable damp coat." When still she hesitated, he added, "You saw it happen before. We freed Tom and battled the Old Ones before it hit. There's time."

"Which you just slept through most of! The withdrawals... You were shaking before you woke up, Hal."

"As I did the morning of your death. It is a normal reaction, prior to a relapse."

She seemed to consider his answer, then bit her lip. After a moment's deliberation, she stepped towards him. She searched his gaze until finally, she reached for the strap at his chest. "I guess we probably should get the chair to do this properly anyhow." She freed his chest, then his legs. She met his eyes again, then paused with her hand on the clasp at his wrist. "You swear you're alright for the moment?"

"For the moment," he answered simply. And it was the truth. Even if he knew the moment wouldn't last. Seemingly satisfied, she freed his wrist. Grimacing, he sat up stiffly. The movement awakened a residue of pain. His heart had healed, but the cartilage and bone surrounding was still tender. Seeing Alex's concern, he hid it, focusing instead on undoing the clasp at his other wrist.

"You're still hurt," she said, worriedly as he stood.

"It will pass," he replied as he winced his way out of his coat. He laid it at the foot of the trolley, then tested further movement. He couldn't hide the wave of pain. The ecstasy of fresh blood had all but worn off. He would need more, or a day of sleep to fully heal.

Hal paced to the door and back, testing his facilities further as Alex kept a leery watch. He still couldn't believe it. He almost didn't want to believe it - that he had survived being staked. Because Alex Millar loved him. _Because she refused to let him go_. Until the moment that he had finally done exactly what he feared. Which was exactly what he always knew he would do.

Hal sank slowly to the floor, back against the wall. The concrete was cool, soothing. Tactile. Alex stepped towards him, then stopped. He found himself focusing on the inner plaid of her boots while she just stood there, staring at him in turn.

Hal knew that he was still spattered with blood. The mark of his truth.

He ran his gaze up her body, to her face. The perfection of her lips. The line of her jaw and rise of her cheekbone. Her face that he could no longer feel. Lips he could no longer kiss.

Because Alex was dead.

She had _always been dead_.

What they had felt was a shattered illusion. All he could feel now was the concrete behind the ache in his back, and the barest shred of control he still held. He tried to tune out the slowed heartbeat of the sleeping operative in the corridor as Alex sank to her knees opposite him. She started to reach out, but then stopped. Abruptly, he seized her wrist - facing head-on what she had hesitated to address. Her wrist of tingling, cold nothing. A ghost's wrist. He let go. Urgently, she brought her hand to his face.

"No," he shook his head and pulled away. Hurt and confused, she dropped her hands to her lap. He looked down, focus dropping to the edge of his sleeve, where it was steeped in blood. Blood that he wanted to rend from the fibers. He wanted to suck the dried bits from his fingertips.

"This man. This version of me that you know?" Hal started reluctantly, then shook his head. "He isn't as strong as I'd have you think. He's so new, Alex. The last fifty five years…" Hal could tell from her eyes that she didn't understand. Not really.

It started in the throat. It always started in the throat.  
A thirst, an ache of a persistent itch that only one thing would balm.  
But that, he could ignore. That, he was used to. That was fine.

No, what always made him succumb were the flashes of vision; imprints of blood. Thousands upon unfathomable quantities of throats slashed, eyes dulled and lifeless; a million ways to kill. Every new encounter was yet one more spotlight of temptation. Humanity was so fragile, and nearly effortless to kill. Calculations of countless scenarios came to him instinctually, habitually. One after the next after the next until he was left shaking with the strain of resistance. His body would seize and insist. The iron band of hunger would ratchet down until his mind was washed of nothing but the terrible need. Such a need that was far too easy to relieve. To take. To taste. One small sip, and the pain all goes away.

One small taste, and he could prolong the inevitable. One small mouthful, and he could keep his control for a while longer. Pulling his attention back from the steady lull of that resting heartbeat, he's aware that she's leaned in close. That she's stroking his hair. He can feel the movement, but not her touch. Her touch is an echo. The capacity for so much more. The loss of what was. He had to protect her from this.

"Alex…" he tried again, then licked his lips. It was already happening. He knew exactly what he must do, down to the very detail. It sickened him, but he could already feel the resolution slotting into place. Idly, he stroked the top of the room's metal base, as if he were looking for dust. He kept his voice soft, even though the words were harsh. "I didn't get as far as I did by being nice. I've _done_ things. Terrible things, unspeakable things. There's so much more than you've seen. So much more than can _ever_ be forgiven. There's no salvation for me. You cannot save me."

His words didn't seem to phase her in the slightest. She ran her fingers through his hair once more. "I already did, Hal. It's gonna be okay. I'm not going anywhere."

He shook his head and wrenched free from her ghostly touch. "It doesn't matter." He met her perplexed gaze as he took her hand. "Don't you see? I'm not _allowed_ to be happy. Can you understand? Just how selfish I've been? If I really cared for you at all, I would have _never_ let you close. I shouldn't have let it get this far."

Alex crinkled up her face. "But, did you really have all that much choice?"

"Yes, of course I did," he answered sharply. Her eyes narrowed and he cut off her retort. "I could have never courted you to begin with. Or refused to indulge your advances. Or not agreed to have tried anything with you. Or failed to return after Glasgow. Or left anytime I had the opportunity to. Alex, there were literally hundreds of times that I could have saved you."

"And what makes you think that I'm the one who needs saving?"

"Because I know what I'm capable of. You need saving from me."

"Oh, for Christsakes Hal! This wasn't your fault! If I hadn't given you that flask then you wouldn't have -"

"Survived," he concluded for her. "I wouldn't have survived, and the switch wouldn't have been thrown. I can't do this again. I can't," he repeated.

"And why the bloody hell not?" Alex demanded. Her hurt was riling her anger. _Just as he wished_. "I know it's going to suck - spectacularly! Trust me, I of all people know what a glorious fucktwat you're gonna be." She said crassly, but then softened. "But, we'll get you through it, Hal. Same as last time. No difference. Shite - it's even more secure here than at home. But I'm still not gonna leave you."

"I know. Exactly," he leveled her with a dark gaze.

Finally, Alex seemed taken aback. "I don't understand. I thought... I mean, I saved your life."

" _Again_. You saved my life, again. That's thrice now. Three times you have spared me from certain death. Why?"

"How can you even ask me that?" Her lip trembled and her voice broke. Somehow, he kept it from breaking his resolve. He kept his voice at a whisper to answer her.

"Because you'll always save me. And it needs to end."

He stood suddenly and within one stride he was pounding on the door.

"Hal, no - what are you doing?" Alex started after him and he only knocked again, urgently, and without words. The heartbeat outside leapt awake. Alex caught his elbow and tried to pull him away from the door. Just as he knew it would be, she no longer possessed her former strength.

"Hal, please!" she pleaded, but Hal only knocked again.

Groggily, a voice came through the heavy door, "Miss Millar?"

Miss Millar was throwing everything she had at him in fist and boot and tingling attempts of ghostly tugs, without affect. "Hal, no! You don't want to do this!"

Hal rapped politely, three times.

The lock clicked open.

It happened so blindingly fast. At the click of the lock, Hal tore open the door and the guard's crossbow went skidding across the floor. Jim gurgled as Hal caught him by the throat and slammed him sideways into the doorframe. Alex, stunned, barely registered as Hal's foot caught the edge of door as he passed into the corridor. With one hand pinning the guard to the wall, he yanked the door shut before Alex could follow. The brief look she caught of his eyes flashing black nearly stopped her heart.

"Hal!" she screamed. Through the door she heard their struggle, then a heavy thud against it. "Hal please don't do this - Hal!"

A strangled cry, abruptly cut short, then thick silence.

"No!" She screamed and pulled at the handle, but the heavy metal door wouldn't budge. She tried to rent-a-ghost to the other side of it, but she may as well have been a human trying to teleport for all the good it did. She kicked the door in frustration.

"Goodbye, Alex," Hal's voice was muffled, but far too soft. Apologetic, almost.

"No! Don't you _dare_ go. Don't DO this! It's not who you are - Hal!" She shouted, pleaded, but was only met with silence. "Aargh!"

She hadn't tried to leave the room until it was too late. She realised what Hal must have known all along. The way he had tested the metal base with his finger… That the room wasn't just for vampires. No wonder Rook had left her with -

 _The whiteboard!_ She picked it up from where she had left it leaning, and flung the marker cap off.

"HELP" she scrawled, then stood back from the door. She raised the board high and waved it frantically back and forth. "Damn it - c'mon!"

The silence stretched forward. Rook was gone. Surely, most of his team went with him. Was there anyone left in the Archive to even answer her? Were they being killed by Hal this very moment? All she could hear was silence. "NO!" she screamed and pounded on the door until her angry tears obscured her sight.

* * *

Hal was gone. The blood of the guard coursed through him, sharpening his edges and clearing his mind. Alex shouted after him, her voice carrying through the concrete corridors all the way to follow him out.

Up one level, and her voice faded. He was thankful the corridor above was as empty as the one below had been. He knew what he would do if he ran into someone.

 _His Majesty's Gift,_ Hal thought with irony as he stalked the vacant corridors. Rook's scent was leading him through the rabbit warren of concrete. King Charles had been a fool. Keeping the secret had doomed them all. It should have all ended then, with Richard. Vampires shouldn't have been allowed to get away with being vampires. And soon, they wouldn't. The thought was oddly soothing.

Dominic's office door was shut. Hal kicked it in. His assumption was correct. Rook was out with his team. There, in a porcelain tray to the left of Rook's computer, Hal found exactly what he was looking for. He sat in Rook's chair and lifted the keys. Then, rummaging through the desk drawers, Hal found the second thing he would need.

One last stop, and then he'd be really gone. Utterly gone.

* * *

_The Protestation_ _, July 1641 required those over 18 to sign an oath of allegiance to King Charles I and the Church of England. "No one could hold a State Office without signing." Was an attempt to avert the English Civil War, attacking the 'wicked counsels' of Charles's government_.

Musical nod for the atmosphere of this one was James Blake, Retrograde.


	38. Freefall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._   
>  _Musical nod to Woven, "My Conditioning", as well as the Doobie Brothers and Verdi. Bring on the mix._
> 
> * * *

The guard's raspy breath could still be heard through the heavy metal door. He must have fallen in front of it. Morbidly, Alex almost expected to see a trail of blood trickling towards the drain in the room, but there was none. She kept shouting in hopes that someone, anyone, would hear her. If not, then the guard would surely die. If he wasn't dying already. It had been what? Ten minutes? It felt like forever that her mind had been spiraling into dark visions of Hal, covered in blood, leaving trails of corpses in his wake. And of course she didn't have a cocking cell signal down here! She had tried from all four corners of her containment.

She kicked the door again with another anguished shout of "Hal! Damn it, aargh!"

In spite of the context of his words, Hal had been calm and soft-spoken. In hindsight, she knew it was so their conversation wouldn't alert the guard until the moment he had chosen. In hindsight, Alex was furious at Hal - but also at herself. He had played her! He had banked on the distraction of her emotions. She hadn't realised what he was doing until it was far too late. Alex kicked at the iron trim again for no other reason than her own anger. No matter what she did, the shite wouldn't budge. Then she kicked Hal's shoes, punting one right into the corner. It landed with a sad thud. Some stupid part of her was actually worried that he had left without them. Maybe he wouldn't get as far, but it meant he was already too far gone to care. About to punt the second one for good measure, she paused. Outside, the sound of a single set of footsteps was swiftly increasing. Alex pounded on the door, "Help! Please!"

"I hear you there, girlie," Maggie's voice sang out clearly. "Just you hold on."

There was the silken displacement of air as Maggie disappeared. Hopefully for help, or one of the medics or something. Alex crossed her arms and paced, impatient. A short moment later when the ghost returned, Alex immediately shouted, "Have you seen Hal? How many more are hurt? We have to stop him!"

"Just you calm yourself. Everyone's cleared out. And by your asking, I take it handsome ain't in there with you?"

"No, he -"

"He's the one that made a mess of Jim here?"

"Aye. Now please - if you just let me go after him, I -"

"Shh child. First aid was never my forte. Just a tic," Maggie said, and Alex took a deep breath. She waited while the ghost tended to the fallen guard. She heard muffled sounds - a slosh of liquid, the tear of a bandage. After a few moments, Maggie addressed her again. "Stand back, if you please."

Alex took a step away from the door just in time. It swung open forcibly. On the other side of the fallen guard was Maggie Dan standing proudly - with a toilet plunger.

"Either that is some sort of magic wand, or you seriously know something I don't."

Maggie glanced down at the plunger and shrugged. "Was the closest thing at hand. Don't do us ghosts a rat's good to try and move these doors. But just 'bout anything else material will. So where's your snacking fella gone off to, eh?"

Alex couldn't believe Maggie was making light of this. She glanced down to where Jim was sprawled across the threshold. A large clump of gauze was peeking clear of the man's collar, next to a half-empty bottle of surgical spirit. "What about him?"

"Jim?" Maggie raised an eyebrow and glanced down. "Well, I'm no expert, but I doubt he'll die from a bite to the shoulder. He'll be none too happy when he wakes up, of course. Must have fainted, which is rather embarrassing in our line of work."

"What? You mean, Hal didn't -"

"No dear. He nipped the poor bastard right good, but he missed the artery by a mile. That's mighty strong restraint your beau's got. Sure wish we could teach it." Maggie set her plunger down, then produced a bottle of paracetamol from a pocket. She squatted to set it on the floor next Jim's head. Alex, dumbfounded, just watched the man's chest rise and fall until Maggie stood. The elderly ghost extended a hand to wave Alex out. Wary and still in utter disbelief, she stepped over the fallen guard. Once Alex was free of the containment cell and standing in the corridor, Maggie asked, "Now, where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Course you do."

Alex shook her head. "I told you! Our link is gone."

"Oh it's shaken up, no doubt about that. But I wouldn't be so sure it's gone. Concentrate. Which way did he go?"

"Out. Up. I don't know," Alex said with frustration as she glanced towards the stairs. Maggie regarded her.

"I gave some thought to your situation. Lucky for you that's why I was popping down here before heading off for the next crisis."

"What crisis? They found the cameras?"

"No, worse dear. It's all been sent off to the news reporters already. We're on a Code Black hoax reenactment operation now. But don't you worry about that," Maggie said good-naturedly. Alex's shock must have been written on her face because Maggie clasped her arms. "You need to concentrate. I don't know what state Mr. Yorke left in, but I doubt that lovely control of his can last. Where did he go, Alex?"

Alex bit her lip and stared back at the old ghost. "Um, thataway, I think?"

"Don't think. Know. You know it in your soul, girl. Because he's still walking out there with part of it. Trust that, and you'll find him."

"Alright, Yoda." Alex barbed, disgruntled, as she pulled away. "But what am I supposed to do if I _do_ find him? He just made it real clear he didn't want my help."

"Course he did - he knows that you'll stop him! The git," Maggie sighed. "Alex, we're doing our damnedest to keep the lid on this whole circus. Don't let Hal be the one who cocks it up."

Alex glanced again towards the stairs at the end of the corridor. Maybe Hal had gone that way, but maybe it was the only way to go. "What was it you were going to tell me?"

Maggie pursed her lips. "Well, it could be a long shot now. It'll probably depend on how much more he's drank by the time you find him."

"What will?"

"I don't have access to the lab - us ghosts set off the equipment, so it's warded. But I had Nave fetch something for me, before everything went haywire." As Maggie spoke, she pulled free a lump of gauze from her sweater.

Alex raised an eyebrow, questioningly. Whatever it was, Maggie was holding it carefully. "Tis the last bit of you m'dear."

Alex was quickly puzzled. "But they torched me. So, what? Ashes?"

"Oh, no - those were tossed." Maggie said it as if it were an everyday occurrence one's mortal remains were thrown out with the rubbish. "We have to keep a record of cases like yours. Samples, in cold storage, for at least a year. If evidence has to be planted later on, you see." Maggie held the gauze out to Alex. Confused, she took it. Unwrapping the soft, white strands, she revealed a chilled vial. "That be your heart's blood. Pure as it comes, and in your case, all that was left."

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"It's not obvious? Have him drink it. That's your path back."

"You think that will work?"

"I think it's a chance. Now, I really must go. There's no telling now how many folks I'll have to confuddle," Maggie muttered, but Alex just kept staring at the dark vial in her hand. "And girlie?" Maggie asked, and Alex looked up. "Whatever it is that's telling you he went 'thataway'? Trust it."

Maggie Dan was gone before Alex could reply.

* * *

Some things never change. The Cafe on the Corner certainly hadn't. Same decor. Same permanent smell of fry up. Same condiment bottles sat at the center of the same tables. So much had changed since Allison had first tracked Tom to here, and yet "here" hadn't changed one bit. They added another chair to the middle table when Allison and Tom joined for breakfast. The young man behind the counter seemed more interested in the game on his phone than them, which was just fine.

Tom told Irving, Christa, and Begley the same thing he had told Gwedore. If but in slightly less words. Covert, Tom was not. But they were quickly past it all when their food order came. So many plates of food that there wasn't an empty spot left. Begley had even ordered pie - a whole one. Everyone had survived the night intact. The change had even healed Christa's twisted ankle. And, if Allison weren't mistaken, there was something brewing between the pale-faced girl and Irving O'Meara. She was thinking of traveling to Ireland with him and his brother. Begley was dishing out spoonfuls of pie when Tom's mobile rang sharply in his pocket. He took a big bite before answering.

"Oi, Alex! We're having brekkies at Cafe on the -" Tom greeted brightly around a mouthful of pie, then abruptly cut off. "Hey, slow down."

Allison paused, fork and knife stilled while Irving and Christa kept laughing with Begley. Worry dropped down Tom's face like a curtain. "What is it?" she insisted even as Tom turned away and covered his ear. Their friends quieted, but Tom suddenly stood.

"We'll be right there. I can -" Tom said, then was obviously cut off again. "A van? You sure?" He nodded even though Alex couldn't see him, then listened to more of what the ghost had to say. Allison watched Tom's face, trying to suss out what exactly had happened. "You really think you can?" he asked Alex, uncertainty clear in his voice. He nodded again. "Yeah, alright. And Rook, he don't know? Cuz he what? Oh... That's no good neither. Alright, yeah. I'll check the woods. You ring back soon as you think -" Tom nodded again, then his mobile beeped as Alex ended the call. He glanced at it, then finally met Allison's imploring gaze.

"Hal's got loose. Alex is going after him. And all o'us from last night is 'bout to be on the telly if Rook don't stop it."

* * *

He had forgotten this... he could _never_ forget this. The grey day held prisms of light in the mist on the road. That same mist that lessened visibility for humans was a comforting blanket of discretion for him. The shadows pooled at the edge of the trees were crisp and beckoning. All the colours of the world sat heightened and brightened. It wasn't just the sleek, new auto. The car, the road, the air that smelt of leather - everything was velvet and smooth. His frayed edges were soothed, knitting together into a clear tautness. Blazingly fresh blood coursed through him - all of it combined was more than he had tasted in decades. The feeling of life and _alive_ it brought was all the more heightened by the deeds of leaving.

The comfort was a fallacy.

The cravings weren't far behind him, nipping at the tyres. He couldn't outrun it or have any hope of escape. Not now. The precipice was all the more contrasted having come so deliriously close to death, only to be slammed back.

In the back of his mind it was whispering, underhanded. _To fight any longer was futile. This was who he really was. He needed blood to survive. To live. To feel._ To not feel _._

But Alex, she believed in him, the small, devil's advocate voice argued. She believed in him until he destroyed her faith, that is. How can you argue with the truth?

He knew where he was going, and maybe this time would be the last time. But he had told himself that before. So many times before. Never to see _her_ ghost. No, she had made her peace with death immediately. Years before it had ever happened. _On the day she had wed him_. He increased pressure on the pedal, urging the sleek car faster. The urging of a familiar game tugged on him. Placing a bet against himself, he coaxed the speedometer to rise. If he could make it there without intervention, _then so be it_. The distance, which used to take many weary days by carriage or horseback, was such a small thing really in this day and age.

However, if he were to be pulled over by the police, then the massacre would begin. He wouldn't be able to stop himself. The darkness inside welcomed the inevitability and pressed the pedal deeper. The pair of Wellingtons he had stolen from the Department's garage felt heavy, making it even easier to force the pedal. 85… 90... Surely Rook would have reported his car stolen, or have a way to track it. 95… Hal did not care. Let them come.

And if _Alex_ were with them… Hal's bruised heart gave a small flutter of pain. With urgency he opened the window, irritated at the automated speed and missing the immediacy of the Benz's turn crank. The whoosh of wind was cold and loud, filling the cabin with a maelstrom of white noise. To combat it, he fumbled with the stereo until the strange computer monitor at the center console lit up, newscast voices droning away. He smiled at the similarity of taste between his good self and Mr. Dominic Rook. The feeling was short-lived. He had allowed the man to use him. Hal changed the station, scanning until he found something that fit his stormy mood. He cranked the music loud enough to overpower the wind, briefly appeased in a melody vaguely familiar. But once the singer began, Hal's heart sank.

_Down around the corner a half a mile from here,_  
_you see them old trains runnin'  
_ _and you watch them disappear._

He gritted his teeth, hand near the dial and about to change it. But it was too late. The memory of her was with him fully. Unfolding with each chord of the guitar-heavy song, an unseasonably sunny morning with the isle stretched out ahead of them. Before everything, before this _emptiness,_ was Alex singing. The warmth of her smile had filled the car.

_Without love, where would you be now, without lo-ooo-oo-ove?_

He really did love her, which was all the more reason to reach his destination. It was the only way she would be free of the burden of him. Leo had given him the entire span of his life. The serendipity of the song was _not_ an intervention. Hal changed the channel again.

The cheered harmonies of the Beatles cut with abrasive optimism. He never had been fond of their simple melodies. Leo and Pearl had loved to debate him on it. Not enough soul, he had said. Everything had been easier, for a time. They had established their rhythms and routines with each other. Their time together was not without its hardships, but those hardships were domestic in nature. Solvable. Comfortable. Leo and Pearl had been good to him. Good _for_ him. Christ, he missed them. Hal turned the radio dial away from music, back to the safety of the news.

"- South Wales, police are investigating a bomb threat yesterday at the Barry Island Pleasure Park. Closed for the season, it is unclear the motive. No suspects have been-"

Hal turned the dial again. Radio 3 was at the final swells of Verdi's Manzoni Requiem. Finally, something fitting for his oscillating mood. It was only a matter of time now before the truth was broadcast. Vampires finally out in the open, and feared, just as Snow had wanted. And so the pieces fell; Eve, the prophecy, himself. He could see the path of destruction for his kind with the Archive's secrets exposed. Public demands for justice. Supernaturals as the hunted. A modern day Inquisition.

He wanted no part of it.

And not because he feared justice - he welcomed it. Which was why he had to do what he set out to. He was nearly to the turnoff. He was nearly there. He knew where he was going, and maybe this time would finally be the last time.

* * *

From car to car, Alex had been following her sense of 'thataway' for hours now. _Hal-bloody-Yorke and his goddamned self-loathing shite!_ She had followed the feeling first to Rook's office, then the Archive's underground garage, then out and past the woods where she had called Tom. At first the trail seemed so obviously to be heading east, except right before where the M4 turned to continue over the Severn bridge, the feeling veered. She teleported to stand on the side of the motorway. After a whole lot of trial and error - the process was like dowsing for water with a broken stick - and she was on the path again, albeit more than an hour later. She tried not to wonder how many people Hal could kill in an hour. She thought for certain he would return to the vampires. To the dark leader of London he had once been. But apparently, there was another agenda at play. The tugging sense of 'thataway' remained steadfastly to the north. All she could do was follow. And wonder - _where the bloody hell was he going?_

She had tried to rent-a-ghost directly to him, like she used to be able to, but couldn't get a clear enough read. So she had figured out how to do the next best thing. Motor hopping brought her forward all the faster, but Alex quickly felt worn thin. The alternative however, felt creepily voyeuristic. The cab of an auto was a surprisingly intimate place if the occupant didn't know she was there. The young man singing falsetto to Lily Allen was certainly amusing, although she couldn't tolerate his enthusiasm for long. At the last car she had wanted to rest. Each jump felt more strained, fatigued. But then the couple had started arguing, so Alex continued on to leap into the next auto ahead.

The northern route was winding - first motorways, then roads through increasingly smaller townships. Eventually, after her sense of Hal had bypassed Birmingham and righted north yet again, Alex found rest with a middle-aged woman driving alone. Radio 4 droned on as they went through clusters of shops barely passing as towns, causing Alex to intensely miss Hal. This was immediately followed by the crushing hurt and seething anger that she had tried to shove aside ever since she took off to find him. She had been running for hours, hell-bent on just getting to him. The sooner she could reach him, the more lives she could save. She accepted it. Confronting Hal wouldn't be easy or pretty. Thus far, her only plan consisted of the element of surprise. She would pummel into him and teleport his murderous arse right back to the Archive. They would lock him down and detox him - _alone_ , this time. He wouldn't be able to trick her again. But God, she missed him. Or rather, who he had been yesterday. Before everything went so horrendously wrong.

The towns had been thinning out into open countryside the further she travelled. Past fields and plots of land and occasional signs for this or that winery, the view out the window was naught but verdant green smeared hazy by the steady rain. They continued around traffic circles and over rivers, with only a small turn off-course before her sense of Hal, and thankfully the car she was in, continued north. She began to wonder if Hal was on his way to Scotland to start his rampage. Or, if the vague sense she _thought_ she was following was a load of crock. What if Maggie Dan had been wrong? What if Alex was just on a wild chase, following a meandering path home? Could Hal actually be still back in Wales, locked in and feasting on some bingo hall? She shuddered at the idea that a vampire could actually do something like that. And subsequently, she wondered just how many catastrophic gas leaks were actual accidents, and not a cover-up for something monstrous.

"In South Wales," the news report interrupted her thoughts. "Police are investigating a bomb threat yesterday at the Barry Island Pleasure Park. Closed for the season, it is unclear the motive. No suspects have been reported." Good, she thought. That meant they still didn't know what to make of the rest of it. Alex hoped against all hope that the Department's "hoax" was convincing. However they did it, she didn't care. "In other news today, a young woman was killed in a vindictive plot. She was hiding, but now she's not." Static scritched across the report. " _Alexxx…_ " a voice whispered through the static. She whipped her attention to the woman driving - who hadn't changed her demeanour in the slightest. Alex shook her head. Maybe she had just misheard…

" _Alex was loved by something dark, Alex…_ "

Nope. That was definitely coming from the radio. " _Protected by something gone…_ " the voice skeezed and taunted, sending a shiver clear up her spine. " _A soul is out of the shadow. A soul is out to be caught..._ "

Blind panic, sudden and completely irrational, took hold. She wasn't being blocked by Hal anymore against the men with sticks and rope! Remembering everything that Annie, and Hal, had told her about the agents of the other-side being all "bluff and blunder", she stretched her arm forward, between the seats, to reach for the controls. The driver remained oblivious. But then it felt like she had suddenly fallen, a misplaced step. The vague sense of 'thataway' she had been following since this morning, was no longer ahead of her, but behind.

She had passed him.

She clung to that sense of Hal - a lifeline away from the heckling voice on the radio.

With a tug of self, she teleported out of the car to stand alone on the side of the small roadway. The 'thataway' was still behind her, so Alex started walking.

Eventually, she spied the lane. Barely that, it was merely a rutted pair of muddy tracks that wound up the hill and beyond, out of sight. Alex swallowed, then glanced back towards the road. Rain pelted against the pavement without the interruption of another car. She checked that strange internal compass she had been following yet again. _What the bloody hell was he doing out here? An afternoon constitutional?_ Somehow, Alex doubted that Hal had stolen a car and come all this way to merely go on a hike. Somehow, that thought made everything worse. With a quick forward projection, Alex teleported to where the lane crested the top of the hill.

Beyond where she stood was a valley veiled by rain. In the distance, a swathe of woods hugged the curve of river. She could feel the emptiness of it. The openness. There wasn't a village, homestead or settlement in sight. Vaguely, Alex realised they must have driven into the nature preserve - the big one that was southeast of Manchester. She couldn't remember the name of it, then wondered why she was trying so hard to. Her family had only ever been as far south as the Lake District before their Barry holiday. She shielded her eyes from the rain, even though she needn't have, and scanned the valley. The lane continued a substantial way downwards, towards the river. And far as she could tell, there wasn't even the hint of an auto on it.

She teleported again halfway down, checked her internal compass, then jumped another few hundred feet forward. Her head had started to hurt, which she tried not to think too much on. The detachment to the world she had felt ever since last night seemed worsened out here - wherever here was. But she had to keep going. The tracks _did_ appear freshly turned, the mud clearly marking strong, patterned treads. Alex teleported again. And again. The feeling, just ahead, just out of reach, did not lessen or fade. At this point, all she could do was follow it.

When she finally did stumble upon the sleek, silver Lexus parked just off the lane, it struck Alex as completely out of place. _Rook's car. Hal had stolen Rook's car_. The fact that it was spattered with mud and muck from traversing the single lane country road that was barely a road, only enhanced the feeling of wrongness. Hal, who was so careful, so fastidious. Cautiously, she stepped around the empty car. Just beyond it, the barest of trails led into the woods. Thataway.

The trail led through dense underbrush. Instead of teleporting any further, Alex concentrated on walking in silence. _I am a being without her body. I am a ghost_. She embraced the hard fact of it, because she hoped that it would help. Hal would hear her coming, otherwise.

Eventually, just when she had begun to be lulled into the quiet peace of the walk, the trail opened into a clearing where the brush lessened. Alex paused at the edge, her heart in her throat. Just in front of her were the traces of an old, moss-covered foundation of stone, only partially obscured by tufts of grass and heather. It had been mostly kept clear of the press of the wild. A rise of the remains of a hearth made it clear the ruin was once a large house. On the far side of it, across the clearing from Alex, was Hal.

He was sat upon a stone, at the edge of a whole spiral of stones, with his hands in his lap like a meditation. His torn and bloodied shirt was plastered to his skin - the rain had drenched him through. All around the spiral of rocks, were upturned clumps of soil, as if he had done a bit of gardening. His gaze was cast outwards, towards the largest tree, seemingly unaware of her presence. Resting lightly, his fingers were curled over something. When she recognised what it was, her heart shattered. She had been so convinced, so certain Hal would return to the vampires. She was a fool.

This had happened before. The realisation of it all was a plummeting freefall. _She had been blind_. Hal had practically told her directly. He had said goodbye. Alex had been too shocked and angry that he had tricked her to see it.

The last time Hal was chaired, he had begged Tom to end him. And it was with more pleading conviction than anything that had come previously. He had pleaded, _repeatedly,_ that it wasn't going to work. That Tom should just stake him now, and get it over with. To save them all from the inevitable. That's when Tom had nonchalantly taped Hal's mouth shut. Alex hadn't known Hal very well yet, so had assumed he was merely being melodramatic. They had peace for three blissfully quiet days, until Tom couldn't take the guilt over gagging his friend. Thankfully, Hal hadn't asked them again.

She stood at the edge of the woods, lost in a freefall of hindsight. Hal had been welcoming his death practically since she had met him. He'd nearly used himself to blow up the Old Ones. And afterwards, his conviction in the belief that he shouldn't still be here had been strong. He had insisted he should have ended along with them. Then there had been London, and how he had set himself up for potential capture just to secure Tom's future. His pained words in the church, bleeding out, " _Alex, let me go_." And that small moment, right before she had ripped Rook's bolt clear from his chest. _Acceptance_. Hal had been prepared to die. This entire time.

The stake he was holding had to have been from the Department. It was too clean to have been Tom's. Which meant it had an iron core, and Alex wouldn't be able to poltergeist it. Nor would she probably be able to teleport Hal as she had planned. Not as long as he was holding it. There was no way around it. She, Alex Millar, was going to have to talk him down from the ledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> _*_  
>  _In the case of a body drained of blood, a pathologist may still obtain a clean blood sample directly from the heart. The sample will be viable for forensic work if kept in a vacutainer tube and refrigerated up to one year. (I'm as surprised as you are that this is enough of a thing for me to even be able to research.)_  
>  _* Messa da Requiem by Verdi was composed in memory of Alessandro Manzoni, an Italian poet and novelist whom Verdi admired. Earlier in its introduction, the work was at one time called the Manzoni Requiem. I chose the piece intentionally, as one of the more optimistic Requiems that I know. The text reads, "Save me, Lord from eternal death," The final Libera Me movement swells in what feels like insurmountable drama, and yet it is carried up into resolution on a clear soprano solo... that just dies away, ending somewhere between resignation and the ultimate uncertainty about what lies ahead._


	39. The Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Special Note: Depression, and the severity of it - for yourself or a loved one - is no easy matter. It also is something deeply personal for me. Fiction is one thing, but in real life, those giving support often need support themselves. Your local suicide or crisis hotline is there for you. Call them. Call anyone. Reach out. Something so heavy should never be carried alone._
> 
> * * *

Tom dropped his hands into the pockets of his jumper and gazed out through the woods. He had scanned in every direction, trying to catch Hal's scent. Alex's hunch must have been spot on. Hal hadn't left the Archive on foot.

Allison hooked her arm through his, coming to stand next to him. "He's not here," she concluded, echoing his thoughts.

Tom swallowed, and the anger of it finally hit him. After everything they'd done. After Alex had miraculously saved him, and Tom had gone through the agony of repressing his wolf to save him all over again, Hal had fallen. Hal, _his friend_ , had given up. Disappointment warred with disgust. Alex had said that Hal tricked her. That he'd attacked the guard in his escape. The ghost would try to find him, but she had feared it was already too late. Tom clenched his jaw. _God, he hated vampires_. And he really wished his best mate _wasn't_ one. Allison must have sensed the emotion in him for she patted his arm.

"C'mon. This is _Hal_ we're looking for. Hal! Do you really think he could be off on some murder spree?"

Tom shook his head, "He's an Old One, Allison. One of the worst there was. We forget."

The brash trilling of his mobile interrupted the protest on her face and whatever new argument she was forming. Tom pulled the cell out of his pocket to answer. "Ello?"

"Mr. McNair," Rook's voice came even more clipped than usual. "The Department needs you, and any of your constituents that you deem trustworthy."

"I done already talked to Gwedore and Irving and -"

"Yes, they'd be excellent," Rook confirmed, sounding distracted. "The situation is as we feared. The video footage and evidence is being reviewed as we speak, so we have set the stage for Plan B. I will text you the coordinates. Please meet me in one hour."

"Yeah, but -"

"Tom, I cannot stress this enough. Your assistance could very well be pivotal. Will you help us?"

Tom held the mobile to his ear, but gazed out to the woods, silent. What if this was it? _What if_ the Department failed their hundreds-year-old mission? The truth of it all finally hit him with a clarity as mighty as a calling. With as strong a sense of good and true as any of the missions he'd had with his Dad. They would come for him. They could come for Allison. The humans would hunt down every single werewolf from that footage. And Hal, his best mate, had abandoned them.

"What do you need us to do?" Tom asked, though it didn't really matter. He would do it. If it was up to him to save them all, so be it.

"Just a simple matter of playing a part," Rook answered. "One hour."

* * *

"You weren't to know."

Hal didn't even look up or acknowledge her approach when he spoke. "You were the only reason I stayed. Tom is settled. He doesn't need me and now, neither do you."

Alex came closer, stepping around an uprooted shrub. "Hal, no. Of course I -"

"No," he stopped her rebuttal. "I'm _tired_ Alex. I cannot do this again. The _hunger._.." He made the word hold such a yearning. "I want so much to revert. To tear the world apart. To drown it all in a thick, red haze there would be no coming back from." Hal trembled as he spoke, holding the stake softly, delicately. "It never changes. It never stops. It never eases up. Every single moment is _compromised_. Tainted." He brushed the sodden strands of fringe from his eyes and finally looked at her. For a brief second, his expression was as if he didn't believe she were really there. His eyes were wildly reddened. "How in the name of Hell did you find me?"

She knew she needed to keep him talking, but Alex swallowed nervously. "Does it matter? Hal, please don't do this. It will devastate Tom."

"He wasn't to know. No one was to know."

"Oh! You didn't think I would feel it? If you ripped yourself from the world?"

He shook his head. "It is broken. Gone."

"It most certainly isn't! The anchor maybe, yeah. But..." Alex threw her hands into the air in frustration, "Fuck it all. I _love_ you goddammit!"

"Why? You don't even know the half of me."

"No. You know what? You're right. I don't. Is that what you want me to say?" Alex's anger flared at the audacity of his question. "There are things about you I will never know, and there are things I never _wanted_ to know. You are capable of some truly unimaginable horrors. But you know what? _I don't give a shite!"_ she shouted at him.

Hal had been looking at the stake in his hands, but he looked up, questioning her.

"I don't give a shite because I've seen a whole lot of something else that matters. I've seen how terribly hard you fight against your past. Against all of it. You're strong! Stronger than you let yourself believe, and you've been keeping yourself that way longer than any of us have been alive. This is the fecking blood talking and I won't hear it. You _can_ get through this. _We_ can get through this." She took a strident step forward and his fingers curled over the stake, tightening protectively, knuckles white. Alex froze. She stood less than two feet away, but stopped her approach. At any moment, she could lose him.

Hal took a deep, exasperated, shaky breath. "Strong?" he huffed. "This is it. This is the verge. I cannot keep the mask up any longer. Don't you see? You were as much my anchor as I was yours. With the thread gone, I'm cut free. And now..."

"And now what?! _So_ _what_? So tell me then - how bad is it?"

"How _bad_? I'm contemplating staking myself. I'd say that's fairly bad."

"How many people did you kill today?"

Hal grimaced, then scoffed, "Today? None, but that is hardly -"

" _None_. Exactly. That is what I thought. Missing your mark on the guard was no mistake. And right now, instead of massacring some roadside pub, you're sitting in the woods in the middle of the pouring rain," she countered rationally, and he turned his face downwards. "Hal, you'd rather kill yourself than kill again. Literally! Look at yourself! That has got to stand for something!"

She knelt in front of him, dropping to the upturned mud. She couldn't feel the cold or the wet, so it didn't matter. She needed to be level with him. She needed to see his face. He still clenched the stake possessively, but he didn't ward her off. She placed a hand gently over his knee. "Hal look at me," she pleaded. "LOOK at me!" He didn't budge, but neither did she. Eventually, he met her eyes. "If you really wanted to off yourself, you wouldn't have even left the Archive. You could have done this right then and there. Why this? Why the theatrics?"

"This isn't -" he huffed, then exhaled. Stopped short. "It was always going to be here. I had to get here."

"No, uh-uh. You stole Rook's car, drove hell-for-leather, which I know because I was trying to catch up. Then, you come all this way and proceed to sort some fecked up _landscaping_?" Pointedly, Alex dropped her gaze to the uprooted plants. "No, you wanted to be found. You don't want this. You've survived far too long for this to be the end."

A long silence stretched between them. Alex counted every second that he wavered as a blessing. He took a deep breath, his gaze far. "You are so bloody like her sometimes."

Alex let got of the breath she was holding. Only then did the realisation dawn. "This place…" she whispered. She began to piece together, from what little she knew, of where they were. _It was always going to be here_. "Jaysus, you really did love her, didn't you?"

"And yet I killed her anyway. I told you. Love isn't ever going to be enough."

"But you're still here. Why, Hal? Why haven't you tried this charade until now?" Alex asked, and Hal looked away again. "Oh…" she paused and Hal still didn't meet her eyes. "You've come here with that very intent before, haven't you?"

A long moment passed, the rain pounding the leaves before finally he admitted with a bare nod.

"What stopped you?"

"Aside from irritable ghosts?" he snapped. The barb would have hurt, except for the breadth of pain in his sigh. His gaze returned to the far tree. "I simply couldn't do it. I couldn't break a promise I made over two centuries ago." His eyes, red rimmed and weary, met hers. "I promised her that I would keep trying."

"Because she couldn't bear the thought of you reverting?"

Hal shook his head. "She held on to the notion, even to her death, that one day I would beat it. Even if it was beyond her lifetime, she thought that she could save me." Hal's voice had softened, but the muscles of his arms tensed. "That day came and went Alex. It was a _lie_. I'm never going to conquer this. It's who I truly am." He returned his gaze to her, and his eyes looked as if they couldn't contain all the sorrows he had seen. All the sorrows he held.

"In part, you are right," he whispered, then looked back down to the stake in his hands. "This is not for me, Alex."

She shook her head, unwilling to accept where he was going with the statement. "No."

"You will always keep saving me. As long as I breathe, you will not allow your Door to come. Even if I start killing again, you will keep the optimism that _next time_ will be different. That the next time, you can help me overcome it, and you can't. No one can." He paused. "You do not know the man I would become. He _yearns_ to kill. He wants to take control for the power, and the destruction. He would destroy you."

"Hal, no." She refused. "You wouldn't -"

"Yes, I would. With the chaos that is coming, I can already see the pathways. I would become the next to lead my kind. I would lead the vampires into war with open arms, welcoming the carnage. Which is precisely why it is beyond time for me to end this."

"But... I gave you hope, you said. Before we had barely begun."

"And then it all was shattered."

"Is your faith in yourself really such a fragile thing? You're a good person, Hal. The very fact of what you're considering only proves it," she countered.

"No, I'm not. I'm sorry I made you think that."

"Not just think it - believe it! And now? All this has just solidified what you so sweetly tried to break in busting out of the Archive. I trust you."

Hal shook his head. "You really shouldn't."

"Then trust in me. If you can't in yourself, trust in me. That was the point, wasn't it? When you got me to fight you? You wanted me to prove that I could stop you if you turned, right? And I did. I've proven that time and time again. You've been a survivor for literally centuries! You can't just give up."

"I cannot stand by and watch yet more death and suffering caused by me. I should have done this _centuries_ ago," he waved the stake irritably. And then he uttered the one thing Alex recognised as the root of his pain. "I cannot bear to keep inflicting my failures on those I love."

"No, you're right. You can't," she said sternly as she suddenly stood, and he abruptly looked up. "That just means you're not allowed to fail. I won't let you."

"No." He met her earnest expression with a discounting grimace. "It's too much, Alex. That is my point. I could not ask it."

"But I can give it whether you ask or no!" She shouted, then took a jagged breath to cool her temper. She crossed her arms over her chest as she collected herself. So much hinged on what she said, and how she said it. On whether she could reach him. She remembered the strange bit of advice Carl had given her. _He trusts those who are the most forward_. If she had any chance of getting through to him, she had to be forward. And brutally honest.

Alex dropped her arms to her sides. "I wanted a big, extraordinary life someday. Well, my someday was taken from me. But then, you know what? I found it anyways. But not if you go. You think you'd be doing this for me?" She vehemently shook her head. "Well, that's an utter load of shite! Without you, I'm nobody but a ghost. Trust me - I had no idea how much the whole thing sucks. Spectacularly. You asked me once to help hold you accountable. Well, this is it. _Don't give up_. Because if you give up now, you won't just be letting down me, and Tom, and Leo and Sylvie and _all_ those who cared for you, but every single soul whose life you ended when you reverted. If you give up, those failures come to nothing but that; _failure_."

Alex took a breath, and in the pause saw the slight tremble of his wrist. She forged ahead. "You want to know _why_ you keep fecking up? It's because deep down, you truly believe it will always win. You really think that you don't have a choice. You even warned Carl that it would take someone close. Not an _if_ , but a _when_. You've beaten this for so long Hal, and yet you can't even see it because you're always looking for the other shoe to drop. What if the only reason it does, is because you expect it? What if instead, you change your expectation to keep on beating it _because you already have?_ "

The silence landed, heavy, after she made her point and he just stared at her. His posture, his grip on the stake, remained unchanged. Alex wanted to keep screaming at him to listen. She wanted to beg him to understand. But the rain fell, and he just stared at her, and she stared back. The rain fell, and she couldn't feel it and he wasn't bothered by it and he should be, because he was Hal, wearing borrowed, muddy wellies and a torn shirt soaked through and it was just all shades of off. She wanted to memorize his face in case she had gotten him wrong. If the tensed muscles of his arm holding the stake struck. She doubted she'd be able to save him a second time. They stared each other down, neither budging, until finally, he sighed.

With that one sigh, he caved to her and Alex nearly wept from that sharp flutter of hope. And yet, his question in response wasn't a give at all. "Why? What, ultimately, is the point?"

His words were a blade-thrust of sorrow that momentarily left her stunned. "I can't answer that for you," she said, after a long pause. "But I can answer it for me." Alex swallowed thickly.

"Love," she said boldly, even though she knew it wasn't enough for him. "And beauty. Getting good and lost in great music. The sunrise when you've been up all night. Sunset after a perfect day. Friendship. And making a difference in this damn world. Just how true and right and _good_ our household is. That we've been all blessed with each other. That we matter. We saved the bloody world, and that means we should _enjoy_ it." _Did he soften, slightly? Did the whites of his knuckles lessen?_

"And… then there's us. I've never felt…" she stammered, then rephrased what she meant. "This thing we have? You're right. I'm not going to give it up. I'll never stop seeing the good man in you because _I'm in love with him_. But it's more than that. I'm in love with you - _all_ of you. Even the bits that hurt to look at. I've accepted it, even if you can't. What I feel for you defies the laws of time and space. I'm dead! This shouldn'a have happened, but it did. _We happened_. We've had two mind-blowing months together, but it'll never be enough. I want two lifetimes! I want the whole bloody world with you! And that's worth fighting for. _You're_ worth fighting for. Just as you're trying to save me in your own assed-backwards way, I'm always gonna save you."

Alex concluded with a hopeful smile. Her speech was met with a tightening of his jaw. He wasn't quite accepting, but he wasn't refuting her either. Alex took a deep breath, then bit her lip. Carefully, she reached into the breast pocket of her jacket. "We're not broken. I can still sense you, Hal. It was enough to follow you here. And… I have this."

She removed the vial, internally chanting a desperate mantra of _pleasepleaseplease._

Hal's eyes sliced into black as if she had flipped a switch. This close to the edge, even months-old, stoppered blood was a potent pull.

"What do you think you're doing?" He demanded around his dropped fangs. "More blood will merely prolong the inevitable."

"And not a bad idea if this doesn't work." Alex held the precious liquid tightly, as protectively as he was holding his cursed stake. They only had one shot at this. Literally. "It's a choice. You need to know. We might be able to mend the anchor."

He kept his hands where they were, gripping the stake at the ready, but he didn't move. The unconscious rise and fall of his chest was a stark contrast against the monstrous darkness of his eyes.

Alex gestured softly with the vial in her hand. "This is it. The last of me. The Department keeps limited samples on file for people like me, just in case they ever need to re-stage evidence. Maggie gave it to me." The blackness ebbed from Hal's eyes. He blinked. She had his attention. "What if we could fix this? What if all you have to do is drink my blood again?"

Hal's cleared eyes hadn't left the vial the whole time she pleaded her case. "Even if it doesn't work," she continued, "you'll still have me. I'm not going anywhere. I'll keep doing anything in my power to help you. I haven't a bleeping clue what my business is anyway."

He licked his lips, then tore his gaze from the blood in her hand to meet her eyes. "If the bond is rekindled then I could hurt you all over again. Or something much, _much_ worse."

"If the bond is rekindled then I can _totally_ kick your arse," she retorted, and his lips parted, then closed. Alex dropped back into seriousness. "In Annie's future - the one we stopped? She said you were terrible. Who you became? That's only one path, Hal. One choice."

"And this is another," he said with a small tilt of the stake.

"Do you ever feel the parallels? Like there are all these alternate stories out there that we could have been living?"

Hal furrowed his brow, then sat up a little straighter. "All of the time. Every day."

"Even the ones in which you revert?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

"It plagues me, to know what I'm capable of."

"Exactly. Hal, what you're capable of and what you do are two _separate_ things. I like this parallel."

"As... have I," he drew out the words cautiously.

"So, stay. Stay with me."

"What of a reality where you don't die at all?"

She shrugged, "It doesn't exist. We can't go back. Only forward, far as I know. And going forward? This is the only future I want," Alex declared solidly. "Besides," she added. " _You_ still owe _me_ a date."

Hal's clenched jaw loosened. The eager stake poised, he said without any restraint of disbelief, "A date." He lowered the stake, set it to rest on his lap. "A date," he repeated and dropped his head into his hands.

Alex returned the vial to the safe-keeping of her pocket, then picked up a piece of uprooted plant. With a small nudge, she pushed the stake to roll. Hal made no motion to catch it, and it dropped to the ground with barely a rustle, landing in a clump of grass. She took a seat on the stone adjacent to him. It was a small boulder, really. She brought one knee up for balance, her other foot on the ground, and leaned forward. She twirled the twig between thumb and forefinger as Hal held his head in his hands, deliberating.

"Promise me," she said, after he still made no motion to retrieve the fallen stake.

"Promise you what?" Hal answered her softly, trepidatious.

"Promise… that you'll keep that promise you made all that time ago."

"And now yours. Why?" He raised his head and tilted his chin to look at her.

"I don't want to ever see… you can't give up." She said with a shake of her head. "Not after all this."

"Alex… that promise has cost more lives than if I hadn't."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"And you're carrying centuries of grief about it, aren't you?" She asked softly, feeling the deep truth of it as she spoke. "I get it now. Your routines." Hal didn't respond, so she pressed on. "Every day, you push your body to the point of healing. Just so you can sleep at night. Every day is a penance. A long line of counting against the things you've done. All of the control you wield over yourself will never come close to making up for the control you had over others. I get it, I really do. You've been sitting inside a prison of your pain all this time. But... maybe that's all you can do? Maybe that's what you have to do? Kinda like Jim Morrison said," she mused, then paused. "Wait, you do know who he is, right?"

Alex took comfort in the classic eye-roll that Hal gave her. "Yes, I know who Jim Morrison is."

"Well, he said that pain is meant to wake us up. That you can't hide it, but rather you're s'posed to carry it with you and it's how you carry it that matters."

"You do realise that he potentially offed himself with heroin?"

"Oh," Alex said after a stumped pause. "Yeah. Shite."

But at her awkward and mortified reaction, Hal actually almost smiled. It was a glimmer of hope rekindled. That small, passing warmth lifted her heart and lit up her face. She smiled, dropping her boot to the ground to shift her posture to be closer to him. But then he shook his head. "This isn't ever going to change. It will always remain a struggle. Even after fifty-five years clean, it has been a never-ceasing battle. I cannot offer you anything more than -"

Brazenly, forwardly, she leaned in to stop his words with a kiss.

It was off and weird and only slightly tingly. When Hal kissed her back with the force of one who has nearly drowned, Alex could barely feel it. But she could feel that there was resolution in that kiss. There was acceptance. And the tiniest hint of a spark that told her that they had a chance.


	40. Running with a Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Apologies for the extra delay as real-life got a bit out of hand. Fair warning of some very adult content heavy material ahead. I hope it was worth the wait._
> 
> * * *

The vial lay gently cupped in her open palm, rather small and plain. The persistent rain had abated somewhat, spent from its downpour. Overhead, the wind rustled through the trees, leaving fallen droplets in its wake.

Hal was deathly still without making a motion towards what was offered.

What remained of her life's blood, small and plain, sat between them.

Alex gave an awkward laugh. She felt oddly rejected, even though she knew she shouldn't. "What? Is it stale or something?"

"I'm quite certain that it is."

"Oh," she pursed her lips, then frowned.

Hal's hollowed eyes flashed to hers. "You were free, Alex. If I take this…"

"Hal," she started, but then stopped, unsure how to loosen the seed of doubt and argue with him further. Hal shook his head, eyes travelling to the tree behind her.

"If I take this," he waved towards the vial in her hand, "you will be bound to me again. And I to you."

"If it works," she countered with sad realism.

"If it works," he acknowledged.

Silence stretched between them once more, his eyes intent upon the glass. Or rather, the dark line of red that light barely passed through. Hal started an irritated pattern of tapping his fingers in succession against his thumb, then with a shaky breath, he stopped, fist pressed to his thigh.

"Do you truly want this? We weren't given a choice, last time." He met her eyes once more.

"Do I want _you_ , you mean? Really, Hal?" Alex smiled. The damned man was five centuries old and still such an idiot. She reached for his hand, knowing that all he would feel was an icy tingle. "I do."

"You do know that it will mean -"

"I do."

"Say that thrice and I may believe that you mean it," he scoffed under his breath.

" _I do_ ," she whispered and lifted her open palm with the small vial of blood towards him. They held each other's gaze, poised between action and non-action, until he swallowed. Hal released her fingers to reach for the offered vial. His hand trembled when he took it from her, then his fist tightened around it to steady himself. He gave a determined exhale.

Slowly, so she didn't startle him, Alex raised her hand to his neck. Her fingers wove through his hair as she focused her attention in an attempt to lend him strength. Hal clenched his jaw, then with one decisive flick of his thumb, he pried off the rubber stopper and closed his eyes. He trembled under her touch, his nostrils flaring with everything his body was tuned into. Alex tuned everything into him. To _taste_ , to feel, to support him - all of it.

Delicately, he raised the thin glass to his lips, then tilted it to take a mouthful. The sharp and sudden intensity of flavour flooded through Alex, bitter and metallic against the back of her throat. Her blood was thick and dead, and yet Alex could see how it burned like a brand through his sternum, forcing his incisors to drop into fangs with a gasp. He quickly downed the rest, face tilted to the sky to coax lose what little remained in the vial. When it was all gone, Hal's eyes flashed open to an inky black.

The glass crashed to the stone and rolled off, and Hal winced his blackened eyes shut with a tensed gasp. His hands turned to tight fists, fighting against the battle of hunger. Alex hugged her arm over his shoulders. "Hal?" she asked worriedly, but he did not respond as he ground his fists against his thighs, struggling to breathe. Alex stood and embraced him, holding his shaking frame as if she could contain this. As if she could contain _him_. He dropped his head lower. She was reminded of a drunk, trying desperately not to heave. "Shite, Hal?"

He trembled beneath her embrace. Then, in one cruel burst that sent her backwards, he pushed her away and was off _running_.

In a detached shock, Alex watched him leave. The second it took to recover from her bewilderment was a second too late. _Shiteshiteshite_! She leapt after him.

The hunger - it was too close, and her blood was such a small amount. Hal had launched pel-mel, hell bent, into the hunt. He sped through the tall grass as if his life depended on it. As if the hounds of hell were spurring him on. To the road. To the car. To the nearest human possible. If she failed to stop him, she knew - just _knew_ \- their chance would be lost forever.

They had run together dozens of times, flushing the vampire out with their practised chase. Alex had experience outrunning Hal, but she couldn't afford to take any risk. There would be no strengthening conquest of will for him this time. There would be no coming down, and no coming back. Hal wasn't chasing her, but _fleeing_. Starved and desperate, the vampire had already been too close to winning. Hal had known - he had tried desperately to end himself before it was too late. And in her free-falling heartbreak she had repeated the very same mistake she had made last night! She should have contained him first. She should have gotten him somewhere safe. She should have given a shred of thought to how bad-off he really was to have even come here.

But she couldn't think of that now. Now, all she could do was run after him. The wet grass parted, allowing him to speed past. She phased through it but couldn't seem to gain any ground. He was running brutally fast - predator fast. Hal held himself in check most of the time, but that couldn't erase the fact that he was a supernatural being. One who could push his once-human body beyond the restraints of human fatigue.

A lance of terror shook through her with the realisation - Hal had _fed_. Hal had drained someone just yesterday. Hal had killed someone, and he was no longer weakened, whilst Alex was. _Hal could escape her_.

And he knew this territory. Hal headed straight out of the clearing and onto a dense path, vegetation whipping by them. Alex raced after. She could see the outcome clearly - this path would lead to a trail which would lead to a road that would lead to humanity. Any nearby home or farm and Hal would fall into unspeakable carnage. The memory she had been privy to of his failure on Grimsay flashed before her eyes - that gruesome reveal of bone, bare of flesh. Not just death, but utter _decimation_.

Alex knew she had to restore their bond and NOW. Hal didn't want this. She had just promised that she would help him through, and she would. If she could find her way back, _then_ _she could stop him_. She would hold him down by sheer force if she had to.

Mid-step, Alex locked her concentration on the dark flash racing ahead of her. With an impulsive tug, she rent-a-ghosted.

For one infinite second, they fused into a desperate scream of hunger and fight. Of push and pull, light and dark, chaos and control. And heartbeat. Underneath it all. Primal, terrible, beautiful. The vampire embraced that wet, exquisite sound. The vampire embraced _her_.

The fight turned to an opening flood. A tidal wave of power crashed down to a funnel of memory. Of all the lifetimes crammed together that shouldn't be. It all was spinning too fast. There was just too much. The lurching of ships and storms, chaos of battles and blood, contrast of beauty and death, the velvet seduction of destruction. Ultimate power warred with ultimate loss, a whirlwind of experience, a tornado of regret and pain without end, spanning _months-years-decades-centuries-ALWAYS_ and -

The smile of a kind face. Of sunrise over a dewed valley so peaceful it could stop time. Of laughter and candlelight. Of friendships long past. Of Leo's. Of Tom's. Of _her_.

Flung from the melee, Alex caught hold of the familiar. Alex caught hold of herself. She dredged free, pulled her mind clear of the tornado and came up gasping, clinging to earth.

The present world snapped back into place as they tumbled through the underbrush and crashed, a stunned Hal catching the edge of her jacket as he fell on top of her. His eyes brimmed with tears in wide surprise. For one frozen moment, Alex held her breath. Hal quivered, a tremor shaking through him. His lip trembled as he tightened his grip on her jacket. _On her jacket…_

The bottom dropped out of the universe when his shaky fingers touched her face.

Her senses flared back into focus all at once as he jerked away, his hazel eyes searching hers. The sodden ground beneath them felt suddenly hardened, and a stick had her in the ribs. The loamy sweet scent of the wet earth nearly brought Alex to tears with its richness. She breathed in deeply, still unsure if it was real. Hal's inhale was staggered, unsteady. She moved her hand to cover his and his fingers automatically widened, allowing hers to slip through. His breath shuddered again, all the way through to his stomach.

Still disbelieving, she tightened her grip on his hand, feeling the solidity of their touch. The agony of having known and lost was still so close, so present. Yet her pulse hammered their truth against his palm as she held him to her. She wouldn't let go.

Not now, after all this. Not ever.

In this poised moment, their faces were nearly touching. In the grey light, with green all around them, Hal's astounded yet clear gaze was more beautiful than a thousand sunrises. His fingers tightened their grip on her hand. The pressure was almost painful, yet it was still not close enough. After the emptiness, after their separation, the feel of his fingers was a gift.

"Ye gawds, did it work?" She breathed the question, giving voice to the disbelief on his face.

With a staggered exhale, Hal moistened his lips and swallowed. Then, he kissed her. The intensity was quick. He tasted sharp, metallic. He tasted of her. His hand holding her jacket tightened, knuckles pressed into her heart as they kissed with the depth of everything between them. With all that had just passed, and had nearly been, and had nearly been concluded. There would never be enough of this. There would never be anything greater than this - the two of them in this tumbled moment in woods, grateful and hungry for the mere touch of the other.

And just as suddenly, he stopped and pulled away. Hal turned his face into her shoulder, catching his breath, and mumbled, "Sorry. That is probably a bit strong."

She huffed a relieved laugh at his embarrassed concern for the blood on his breath. His awkward apology merely meant that she had been right. Whether it had been from slamming into him or the effect of her blood, rekindling their bond had shaken the hold of hunger. She had pulled him back from the brink and grounded him. Her relief spread like warmth and suddenly, Alex couldn't take it anymore - she had to touch him. She had to feel him more. She had to verify that he was still really here. Alive, and steady. Constant, and always. She cupped his rain-wet face with her hands.

With the dawn of a smile she prodded, "Hal?" and kissed him back. Blood on his breath be damned. Their embrace ignited a shivery heat between them. Their desperate, drowning kisses flared flames to fire. She bracketed his hips with her knees and his moan was a sudden and yearning vibration into her mouth.

"Thank bloody Christ, it worked?" She asked again, between heartfelt kisses, holding him to her. "Oh Jesus - how much time do we have? Before..." Lacking a better way to describe his madness of withdrawal, she bared her teeth and mock hissed against his lips.

His response was gruffly lustful. "Not nearly enough." He kissed her again, all deep and full and without reservation. She was lost in feeling the weight of him, of being so blissfully thankful he was still here - that they had saved each other - that she almost didn't register when he stopped with a barely-controlled shudder. "We didn't consummate it this early. Before."

Flabbergasted, Alex caught her breath and raised an eyebrow. "What? You want to wait? Bite me if you have to - I don't care. We can tie you to the bed," she grinned, keeping her grip on him firm.

"But the car…"

"Rook has people to fetch his bloody car! I'm pretty sure he'd rather that than have to clean up a trail of your _munchies_ on the way back," she teased, but no longer was really concerned. She could feel just how truly he was back.

He gave an indignant huff, "I would not-"

She stopped his protest with another kiss. And before he could say otherwise, she took them home. They landed with her back cushioned by their bed and she immediately got to work peeling free his rain-soaked shirt.

Hal recovered from the jump with a shake of his head. "Good," he uttered, then edged up the silken material of her dress. His hand slipped past the taut material of her camisole to caress her stomach. Alex's breath caught sharply. It was as startling as that first time. This elemental magnetism.

He kissed her throat - quick urgent kisses - then trembled and pulled back. His chest was marred by a faint web of scars over his heart, where the cracking had begun and then healed. She covered it with her palm, the starburst lines jagged beneath her fingers. He closed his eyes at her touch and took a careful breath, his fingers caressing her waist. When he met her gaze again, his expression was almost defiant. Alex felt him press towards her, against her palm.

"Don't you _ever_ try to do that -" she threatened earnestly, but he muffled her words with his mouth as he pushed her jacket clear of her shoulders. He trailed kisses, sucking at her newly exposed skin, and she began to wonder if she really would need to restrain him.

He cupped her breasts as he gave shivery kisses along her neck, and her head spun with the intensity of it. Hal was moving with a heated urgency he had rarely expressed. Already, he was coaxing her dress up and off. Then, her camisole. Spinning with the same desire, she undid the clasp of his belt as he pushed his narrow hips into her. His answer was to undo the clasp of her bra.

"Hal, should we -" she started her vague thought about restraining him, but he kissed her again, deeply, running a hand from her bra clasp to free the strap at her shoulder. It didn't matter. She trusted him. She had to trust him. _She had to trust herself_. She had to believe that she could stop him if she were wrong. She had to believe she wasn't wrong. She opened her legging-clad legs, her boots hitting the edge of the mattress as he shifted his weight into her. Alex drew them into alignment, bracketing his waist with her thighs and sliding her hands to caress his low back, urging him closer.

Hal's fingers stroked along the side of her stomach, then tugged down one side of the waistband of her leggings. All the while his breath and kisses on her skin wakened shivers through her. The numb detachment she had experienced since their bond had broken was melting away. Maggie's jealousy suddenly made absolute sense. _To feel what she felt - to feel at all -_ to a ghost was the greatest envy _._ To feel touch, sensation, through her very soul was the Hangori gift. One she had nearly lost.

When Hal forged past her waistband altogether it finally dawned on her, "You're drunk!" She chuckled, "My God, you are bloody drunk!"

Hal's smile hit her nipple right before he took her into his mouth. Then, his fingers gleefully brushed through her curls, drawing an involuntary gasp from her.

"It won't last, so I'd advise you to make the most," he growled into her chest. Under the fabric of her panties he pleasured her maddeningly. Alex heeded his words until abruptly, he cupped under her hip to tug at the band of material. Taking a moment to pull back and savour her surprise, he looked down on her as he edged it free. Alex felt her cheeks flush at that look. They had fucked nine ways from Sunday, yet somehow this was different. Hal was unrestrained.

"Hal, I-" she started but he merely continued the descent of his hands down her legs. Her boots stopped the fall of material, but he didn't slow. Prying the boots off and nudging her leggings and panties to fall, he unzipped his trousers as he straightened. He pulled himself free of his pants then grabbed her hips, guiding her to the edge of the bed. His erection came to rest against her, and the contact was maddening in its incompleteness. Her hands returned to feel the solidity of his stomach, trailing down the soft line from his navel.

Hal paused, closing his eyes and evening his breath as his fingers stroked her skin, sparking shivers and lust. One hand over her heart, the other came to cup her cheek. When he leaned down to kiss her, increasing the pressure of his hips, it was with a deeper kiss than the previous. He sucked at her bottom lip, leaving her breathless and reaching. Her palm flattened once more at his heart, fingers splayed over the scars when he entered her. Alex gasped, fingertips pressing hard into Hal's skin and his stroke deepened.

She could feel herself growing weighted, even more present than before. It was as if their hastened return to each other was an avalanche, unstoppable. All that they had built up slowly over the past two months was coming back in a heated rush. His hands slid down to her hips for leverage. She groaned with how exquisite it was to feel him so completely. Hal's trousers started to fall but he didn't seem to care. He just held her by the hips and fucked her deeply; in short, slapping strokes, then long and slow. The intensity of such a return to her senses, to this depth of sensation - it was going to loosen her mind.

Alex's embrace over his heart swiftly turned to a warning as she watched his fangs drop, the sharp tips contrasted against the softness of his mouth. Hal faltered, momentarily unsure, but that small pause was a confirmation for her. Hal was still in control. His eyes remained clear and focused on hers, even as he tried to gauge himself. She pressed her fingers into his skin and urged him faster again. He closed his mouth over his fangs and swallowed. In an accepting and open display of his trust, he obliged.

She closed her eyes, feeling him more fully with every slap of skin. With every wet repetition, their thread was weaving between them, knitting together. Healing what was broken, and taking root. The magnitude of the build towards it's inevitable conclusion nearly unrooted her all over again. So much so that she needed the anchor of his taste on her tongue, of his skin on her lips. Alex ceased to keep him at arm's length. Instead, she reached for his shoulder to draw up to him, intensifying the sensations between them.

His hands scooped under her to lift her upright as she clung to his waist with her thighs, her hands embracing his neck as he stood. With her throat against his face, the gravity of their return to each other hit her. This pleasure, this flushing taunt of his vampire, would help him. It already had. Her defiant chase and challenge of the line he walked was the very thing that would keep that line in check. She had been running him for weeks without running. Every time they came together was a challenge, a conquering, and a release.

She dropped her head as he held her to him, lifting and lowering. Knowing it put the side of her neck to his mouth, she sucked at the skin of his shoulder, tasting the rain mixed with the salt of his sweat. His breathing turned heavy with the effort of restraint and exertion.

Cradling her buttocks with one arm, he encircled her waist with the other. Pressed this close, the heady scent of him flooded her senses as his arm tightened. "I promise," he whispered, then gave a fluttery kiss against her throat.

Alex knew he didn't make promises lightly. She also knew exactly what he was promising. To fight. To _always_. They made love, binding their promise to each other into one and she remembered his spiral theory. How the spiral was always in approach of its own duality. Hal was a killer who had tried to stop killing. She loved and respected him for it. She loved, and _respected_ the most skillful murderer her own murderer had ever met. She loved and respected _him_. Hal was the very spiral he built over and over again. He would always be in direct opposition to himself. The trick would be to keep it that way. For him to always be in direct opposition. Neither one, nor the other, but held in balance, infinitely expanding.

When Hal exploded into her, his teeth scraped against her skin. She took the desire he held in check and bit down on his shoulder as she spasmed with him, never wanting their waves of climax to end. He held them, trembling and tightly together as she kissed away the reddened marks her teeth had made.

Startling her through the waves of sensation was the subtle sound of his fangs piercing skin - but it wasn't hers. She caught a flash of red as he returned his arm to hug her shoulders. His teeth remained threateningly sharp as he fought his bloodlust, holding her deliciously yet dangerously close. Blood on his lips, he kissed her as the wetness of his wrist hit her back. Tasting and taking the metallic tang from his kiss, she recognised what he had done. Their bond, and her power, had grown the strongest only after she had taken on his blood. He was giving it back to her. Alex tried to deepen their kiss in acknowledgement, but he halted her with a shaky swallow.

Hal guided her to sink slowly back down to the bed. She lessened her grip on him, and he dropped, his belly against hers, defeated in his attempt to keep them upright. As Hal schooled his breathing, his fangs finally retreated and he rested his forehead against her breast in spent exhaustion.

Alex ran her hand through his wet hair, and he turned to lay his cheek against her. The slight stubble on his face was sharp, yet she welcomed it all. The swirling pattern he traced on her skin, she echoed on his shoulder. The poignant awareness of the weight of him, his hip uncomfortably pressed into her thigh - she was painfully aware of just how wonderful it was. Real. Solid. Human.

Hal sighed deeply then pulled away from her in an attempt to step clear of his drenched trousers and muddy wellies. Finally free of the last of his wet clothes, he collapsed onto the bed next to her. For a moment, they laid on top of the blankets, still caught in the surprise of it all. Alex shifted to turn into him and rested her head on his chest, over his heart. His skin was still damp. He trailed his fingers through the fine hairs at the back of her neck with a small, contented sigh.

"Thank God it worked," she smiled, breaking the silence. He had beaten back the vampire once more. For the time being. Hal gave a sleepy "mmm" in response and Alex nestled closer, tracing the fading white lines of scarring with her fingers. She could feel his sinking release into sleep. Hal was still healing from the wound that had nearly ended him. She had worn her soul thin to exhaustion to find him. Even though she knew this quiet moment couldn't last, she let herself drift. They dozed as close and tangled as they felt; her hip nestled against his, his knee ever so wedged between her thighs, her heart close to his. His arm draped over her shoulders and her arm across his chest. Their fingers met and held loosely.

It lived there between them in these intertwined places; this deep feeling of love. Of being made whole. This understanding of each other. She loved him with a fiery fierceness and he loved her in fathomless wonder that she could. Their balance was held in these quiet moments. The shard of her soul rooted in his chest. His heart in her hands. Infinitely contracted and expanding, they were a spiral, woven.

They could have this. They could have each other.

* * *

"Thank you for coming. As you can see, we have been prepared for this scenario for some time." Rook held his arm out to indicate the bustling warehouse behind them. A half dozen grey-suited operatives were in the process of unpacking crates and boxes onto several tables around the room. What already was unpacked looked like the backstage of a film set. The table closest to them held swathes of fur.

The Irish pack and Christa would be joining them shortly. Once Tom learned of Rook's plan, he had rung Irving, catching him and his pack just before they left. All in all they would number only a mere half dozen. But Rook had said it would suffice. It would have to.

"Now Miss Larkin, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we may be able to employ your precise assistance in another way."

"What do you mean?" Allison asked, setting an unconvincing pelt of fake fur back down.

"We have been trying to locate your anthropologist friend. When you reported Mr. Batista as deceased, there was one crucial mistake in your translation."

Allison raised one eyebrow. "My Portuguese is uh, rusty. I used Google Translate."

"Which has a few kinks to work out yet. Yorke's supposition was correct. Vinicius was _perdido_ after his auto accident. Not _parodo_. Missing, not dead."

"Oh. Well that does makes a difference," Allison agreed, then glanced to Tom who was investigating the exposed wires of a robotic claw. He caught her look, then set the prosthetic down.

"Based on your observation last night, he has been possessed. Now, if Yorke's other theory proves true - that this unknown ghost is the third party to Milo and Castle - then it is likely they have returned to their host. It is not an easy thing to achieve, but once established, a possession will usually last as long as the host does." Rook said, theorizing.

"Do you have a way to track him?" Tom asked, genuinely curious.

"The ghost? Or Vinicius? No, regretfully in either case. But if we can track where their planted evidence points to, we'll have a location to stage our little coup. Now, our intelligence within the newsroom has not yet discovered such a location. However, the cameras that Milo had placed did seem to be predominantly focused on your side of the park."

"But if most of the footage points to us, then that will only aid your cause here, correct?" Allison asked, goading Rook into divulging more information.

"Indeed, which is why I called you. However, Castle would have informed his conspirators of our ways, and may have anticipated our response. Your household could be implicated in much more than theatrics. The theft from the Archive was extremely strategic. All that would be needed to verify _everything_ is to find one certain vampire. Honolulu Heights is wide open at the moment," Rook concluded.

"Wait - you think they'll be taking Richard Turner to _our house_?" Tom asked incredulously.

"It stands to reason," Rook mused. "If they're outing Richard Turner, and implicating you… One anonymous tip is all it would take. It's only a matter of hours before Jon Snow is presenting that footage on Channel 4 news. A live arrest would make the scandal all the more complete. Which is exactly why we must make haste."

* * *

In the afterglow and the fading light, a sudden tremor shuddered through Hal, startling them both out of dozing. Alex lifted her head. Their eyes met, then he glanced away.

"It's time, isn't it?" she asked, unable to keep the regret from her voice.

Hal swallowed, then nodded. "Your blood, though wonderful, was not very potent. I will bathe, then we should go."

"To the Archive?" Alex needn't have voiced the question. She already knew the answer. She hugged him, not wanting to let him break the spell of their peace by his need to leave the bed. "I really wish…" she started, then stopped. It was useless. "I'm sorry, Hal."

"I know," he answered softly, fingers light on her skin, then pulled away from her. He rummaged for his pants and put them on. Alex just lay there, feeling the absence of him as he collected a change of clothes. She had to steel herself. She had to be strong. Deliberate and focused, Hal left for the bath, and she wondered if she should go and guard him. The water in the shower came on, then the sound shifted as he stepped under it. She trusted him, and he needed to know that. Alex rent-a-ghosted to return to her clothes, then slipped her mobile into her jacket pocket. She made the bed. She straightened what little there was to straighten. It would be some time before they returned.

Only when the water ceased did Alex teleport to the bath. She handed him his towel. "You okay?" she asked.

"For the time being, but it won't hold."

"There anything at all I can grab to bring with us?"

Hal shook his head as he toweled off. "There's nothing that will help."

"You aren't alone in this fight anymore, you know. You have me."

Hal paused, the towel hung loosely. The agony of what he had to do struck her all the more deeply. She'd miss seeing him like this; unguarded, with his humanity in control. "I know," he uttered. "You _have_ helped. But you won't want to be near me for what comes next. I lash out the worst to those closest," he stated, reaching for his clothing, then paused, wincing with the pain that truth caused. "Alex, I -"

She stopped him with one finger to his lips. "I know," she said. Then she kissed him, saying it all over again. "Been through it once already, remember? Just because you turn into a raging arse doesn't mean I'll listen."

He rested his forehead against hers for a small moment, then pulled away. Without saying anything further, he began getting dressed in clean jeans and a plain vest and shirt. These simple clothes would have to last him for awhile. Hal was buttoning up when suddenly he stopped, frozen. With a poised and lethal coiling, he cocked his head towards the closed door.

"What is it?"

"Richard," he said with a curious tilt of his head, listening.

" _Richard_? What the bloody - he can't come in without an invite, right?" she asked, even as she began to hear what had tipped him off.

Downstairs, the sound of the opening door was followed by a gruff and foreign voice. "Come in."

"Wha-" she shushed her question as Hal met her eyes, and held one slender finger to his lips.

Suddenly predatory, he turned to silently rummage in the linens. When Hal extracted one of Tom's hidden stakes, the dearly fought for peace of the afternoon shattered. Alex knew they were in trouble.


	41. Para Terminar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _Behold! My holiday gift to you dear reader is an update! I hope it rekindles your interest enough to see us all through to the end. The next chapter is already out to Beta, and the finale is in brew. Still reading after all this time? Drop a line and let me know. It would make my holiday._
> 
> * * *

Richard Turner disliked many things. Hoarders. Hookah bars. Her Majesty's Customs and Excise. The list went on. But he especially disliked being manhandled. Normally he wouldn't stand for it, except the man who had 'rescued' him from his imprisonment in the Archive was incredibly strong. Richard didn't appear to have much say in the matter.

The non-talkative fellow smelled of werewolf, it was true, but even with that, he seemed surprisingly, beyond-naturally strong for his slight frame and genteel hands. Richard's diet during captivity had been less than satisfactory of course, but it hadn't weakened him _that_ much. Or so he thought. The werewolf had unlocked his cell, barged in and pulled Richard upright before he could protest. But the true surprise had come when the intruder had stabbed him in the neck with a syringe! Richard's last thought before the rapid loss of consciousness was curiosity about the dosage.

He awoke in a musty, dark cargo van just as the door opened to silhouette his captor. With barely any effort, the werewolf hauled Richard out of the van and set him on a forced march towards the nearest brick row house. He held the sharpened end of a stake pressed vigorously into his back.

It wasn't until they came to stand at the door of the rundown bed and breakfast, it's rusted sign squeaking in the wind, that Richard finally understood the source of his captor's Herculean strength. On the landing, the fellow turned to face him.

"Here, hold this," his captor ordered with a heavy Brazilian accent as they stood at the door. Then, the aggressive posture of the man facing him, threatening stake and all, _slumped_.

Startled, Richard caught him to keep them both from ungracefully falling backwards just as the door opened to the smug face of a young stranger. He gave a cheeky grin at Richard's compromising position. "Please, come in," he invited formally, then promptly disappeared. The limp frame in Richard's arms stiffened, resuming its bracing assault as the ghost resumed control of his host.

"Possession? Seriously? What the bloody -" but he was cut off by being rudely shoved across the threshold. "So we're checking in, then?" Richard managed to huff out. The place smelt even more of werewolf than his captor. And there was another scent that momentarily eluded him. Something familiar.

A pair of footsteps descending the stairs gave the possessed man pause and Richard looked up to see who was coming to greet them. Human, he hoped wildly. He was starving.

Luck, it seemed, continued to taunt him. With a rigid posture, a rough-hewn stake gripped tightly, and a menacing expression, Henry Yorke stopped at the foot of the stairs. His ghost girlfriend came down the stairs behind with a stoic expression. She stood at Henry's side and crossed her arms over her chest. Richard barked a laugh at the sight of the pair of them even as he was manhandled into a chair.

"Henry!" he called out jovially in greeting. The appearance of his partner was a relief. "So you _are_ behind it all! Is this fellow quite necessary though?" Richard asked as the ghost tugged his arms uncomfortably behind his back to lash his wrists to the chair. "He has practically staked me on accident already, you know."

Hal looked back and forth between Richard and the stranger, then pointedly asked, "What are you doing here, Richard?"

"You tell me. And couldn't you have at least chosen a better lodge? This place is horrid."

"Hey, Buster," Alex bristled, but Henry caught her arm.

The possessed man finished strapping Richard to the chair, then straightened. "Henry Yorke, I presume?" he asked. "You weren't supposed to be here," he stated with a tilt of his head and a sly smile. "But what a treat that you are."

"What are you doing with Richard, Vinicius? Or should we call you something else?" Hal revealed that he already recognised or somehow knew that the man was possessed.

A slender eyebrow arched upwards. "Hmm. You are quite the clever one. I've been informed not to underestimate you."

"Wait," Richard queried, his relief at seeing his old partner turning into trepidation. "You didn't order this _thing_ to rescue me?"

Hal shook his head, keeping his eyes on the unknown ghost.

"Bloody fantastic," Richard grumbled, then tugged at his bonds.

Henry's girl must have decided to take matters into her own hands because a heavy bottle went sailing off the bar, aimed for the man's head. It stopped in mid-air, levitating in a blurred spin, and the possessed man huffed a melodious laugh. With a flick of his wrist he sent the bottle sailing backwards. Henry ducked reflexively, pulling his ghost down with him. The bottle shattered against the wall behind their heads.

"Try that again and it will be this," the werewolf raised his stake. "And I do not miss."

The pair of them stood slowly and Henry raised one hand in a convincing surrender. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious, Senhor Yorke? _Para terminar o seu reinado._ "

Richard's portuguese was exemplary, just as he knew his partner's was. Somehow, this ghost had entrapped them both. Perhaps he had even orchestrated Richard's bloody capture to begin with. Perhaps he had orchestrated everything. Whether he meant all vampires, or just Turner and Yorke did not matter. Richard began to feel a frightening doubt.

Somehow, this Herculean ghost capable of possession thought that he could _end their reign_.

* * *

Tom was slammed against the side of a Heddlu police van, the fluorescent yellow and blue filling his peripheral vision as he was handcuffed. He had put up a convincing fight, but that's all it was. Tom had let himself be arrested.

Irving had run. Until they caught Gwedore and Christa, that is, and the youth had turned back, hands raised. As the scene around them dissolved into shouts and orders, Tom let himself go slack. Cooperative-like. He nodded assurance, disarmingly shuffling into the back of the van under the flash of cameras. They hadn't even finished arresting him before they started filming footage of the warehouse.

He was glad that Rook had taken Allison with him. She didn't need the risk of a permanent record. Tom already had one so wasn't too perturbed. He had faith that they would all be released shortly, just as Rook had promised. Tom knew the Department couldn't risk leaving them in captivity. If the plan went as planned, the charges against them would come to nothing. If it didn't, then the world as they knew it would be thrown into chaos and it all wouldn't much matter anymore. Either way, the Department would get them out.

No, Tom wasn't too worried as he was thrown into the back of the police van. Except for the niggling seed of doubt that being taken into custody was actually safer than going home. He just hoped Allison did as instructed for once and stayed out of sight.

* * *

The fury could be felt across the room when a mangy bit of duct tape was slapped over Richard's mouth. They weren't so different, he and Richard. Which was perhaps why they had gotten on so well, all that time ago.

' _We could rule them, you and I. If only you'd grant your illustrious name,'_ Richard had coaxed him. And they had, for a time. Even Mr. Snow had eventually placed stock in their little enterprise. Real estate, artifacts, antiques - Richard was a savvy investor. And 'Lord Harry' had the connections and the clout with their clientele. For a time, they had been kings. When Hal stepped away, Richard had kept their empire running without a hitch, only seeking his counsel from time to time on how to best deal with a particular individual or how to play a setup. They had been a good team. A partnership that Hal had fostered even from his new life, his 'something different'. A partnership that Hal had been reluctant to end even when his trust in Richard was suspect.

"You're to stay here until they come for you," the ghost wearing Vinicius told Richard, who huffed through his nose in reply. "You however, will be coming with us," he said to Hal.

"The hell he will!" Alex took a step forward but Hal held her back. He understood her fiery protection, but didn't want to risk anyone getting staked.

"What makes you think that I would?"

The man grinned, patted Richard on the shoulder, then strode forward to face them. "Senhor, you will not be given the choice."

"Like we haven't heard that before," Alex bristled.

The creak of the back door was unmistakable. It opened, then closed. Hal immediately knew the footfalls were neither Tom's nor Allison's. They were far too slight.

"You want a job done right," Hetty shook her braids as she boisterously pushed through the swinging doors. Her attire, complete with a tailored suit jacket, spoke of the lady of power she was and not the child she appeared. She dropped a lock pick into her handbag. "Is Phil treating you well there Dickie?" She turned to Hal with a little tilt of her head. "Fancy catching you at home. Gotcha."

"Shite, not the midge," Alex muttered, adjusting her posture towards the new threat.

Hal drew an agitated breath as he immediately recognised who the accomplice to Castle and Milo had been. He wondered if Jonathan Castle had even known who he had truly been working for. "Hetty," Hal shook his head. "So you think you're the one to finish what Snow started?"

"Who else? It was your torchman Cutler who gave me the idea, you see." Hetty plopped her handbag onto the arm of the sofa. "Werewolves as the Big Bad in the world? Brilliant. He was really something, that kid. Too bad he couldn't take the heat. One barb from Snow and he turned tail. Ah well. Now just where _are_ your little wolfy friends?"

"You've done all this?" Alex, incredulous, furrowed her brow. "Why would you want this? You're gonna be exposing your own kind just as much as the werewolves!"

"Gives me a right tickle, pumpkin. To be finally out of the closet? I had some plans, you see. And I'm bloody tired of playing pretend. But then - oh! To get to _really_ be the good guys? To rescue the world from the evil 'wittle werewolves? Add the cherry on top of sticking it to these two pompous asses and I was right motivated."

"You weren't waiting for Richard in London to discuss business." The realisation struck Hal quickly. He shook his head, then flashed his teeth at the irony. "Jesus - that tea was for him. Insurance if Castle didn't play his part."

"Bingo, daddy-o. I figured I'd have to set a much bigger mousetrap for you."

"Mmph?" Richard shook his head in confusion.

"She was going to poison and shoot you," Hal answered his partner. Richard gave an indignant huff.

"Sad to loose you Dick, but you understand. We need your mug for the evening news. Business and all," Hetty said sweetly. "As for you, dear Harry, I didn't think I'd have to come fetch you myself. But your girl Rosanna up and ran last night. Maybe she grew herself a heart. There ain't a whole lot of people left who know what you look like. That must sting."

Hal ignored the barb. "Why would you want to expose all of us? What do you hope to achieve?"

"Oh, I'm disappointed! Must be all that humanity going to your head. We expose the whole supernatural menage à trois and come out as clearly the superior species. Why hide from the world when you can rule it? Why else do you think we came to bloody Barry to start, blockhead? That Archive was the key. It had to go. Felipe here has been in place for intel for - how long was it Phil?"

"Eighty-four years," he said with a flourished waved of his stake. "Ever since I was bound to your Lobisomem to keep an eye on them, per your little agreement with Snow. Which is how we learned that we were not the only ones who were watching."

"You discovered the Department! Oh," Alex uttered, following the line of implication. "Holy jaysus, you discovered the Department."

"And then infiltrated it," Felipe answered. "Humans are so easy to sway. Mr. Snow did not think I was such a failure. I'm no Hangori, but I've proved worthy nonetheless."

"Phil's done a damn fine job - ghosting into their communications, following their agents. Us higher-ups have known the workings of the 'world's domestic staff' for quite some time."

"Why wasn't I made aware?" Hal asked, genuinely baffled.

"Because, dunderhead, you skived off before any of us were told. You know how Snow liked it. _Gather-gather-gather-strike_ , and such," she shrugged. "So this is where you're living these days? Christ, you _have_ lost your marbles," Hetty tutted disdainfully as her eyes wandered to the bar. "I'd ask for some O-positive, but I'd be at a loss there."

"How did you get to Castle?" Hal asked, blatantly sidestepping Hetty's mockery. "He didn't strike me as the cooperative type."

"Easy. Get a few strategic wolves to believe they had a chance in making a revolution," Hetty said as she wandered behind the bar. "Pah! Knew that'd be a sore spot with the grey suits. All it took to hook Castle early on was an informant 'friend' ring-leading said revolution. A friend who wanted to bring down vampires as much as he. Good ol' Milo with his discreet intel. You were almost onto him."

"Ah, but now you've actually started it," Hal concluded.

"Bitch, please," she stood on tippy toe to reach for the Sailor Jerry, turning her back on Hal. "You think these pups will live to see their next turn? That was never our style. I know who they all are."

Hal took a fast step towards Hetty and she immediately turned, ready to brandish the rum as a weapon. Felipe raised his stake, threateningly poised. "Not so fast."

Exasperated, Hal sighed and lowered his hands to his sides disarmingly. "What do you want, Hetty?"

"What I've always wanted. Everything. And you two lovebirds are going to help me get it."

Hal tapped his fingers in flurried succession while Hetty uncorked the Sailor Jerry and took a hearty draught. Alex caught his hand, stilling the movement as if that would help. He already knew what Hetty wanted. He had desperately hoped that it wouldn't come to this - so much so that he had nearly removed himself from the equation. But there was no use for denial any longer. "You cannot force me to turn Old Ones."

"Oh, I beg to differ," she chortled, gesturing with the rum bottle. "I can chain you down, ensnare your pet, and take it anyways. You're helping whether you wish or no." Hetty left the bottle on the bar and walked right up to Hal. "It would be so much more fun of course if you were willing. How many do you think we'd get out of her?" Hetty asked with a smile, putting a hand on her hip.

"Och! Just try me," Alex growled, but Hal squeezed her hand in his to silence her. He squared his jaw as Alex gave him an assessing glance. They both needed to keep their tempers, but his was growing painfully short. Next to Richard, Felipe lazily twirled his stake between his fingers. Hal no longer wished to die. Given that Alex had halted his suicide mere hours ago, the thought was ironic. His pathetic attempt to protect her from this inevitability was terribly sad.

"That was your plan all along with Dick, wasn't it?" Hetty continued. "I bet it's how you got him to keep your little secret of being not-dead," she chuckled. "Now, I wonder if it went further than that. If you _meant_ to overthrow Snow. You've been experimenting with ghosts for a long time. Case in point, our boy Phil here. Now, if you were to succeed in fully binding a Hangori, that would give you a whole lot of power. Stands to reason you'd continue. Stands to reason you can do it again."

"You're wrong. That isn't who I am any longer."

"Oh Hal, for fuck's sake! Kitten's out of the sack now. You took out Snow because you had her - didn't you? Not just for dear old Dick. I know you! All the way to the top, no stops. Well, ol' Het is right there with you."

Alex shook her head, "No. That isn't what it was like at all."

She grinned. "Oh, honey. Have you got rose-coloured specs, or what? I know all about the little experiments your _boyfriend_ got up to before he turned soft. All the graves. All the clotted blood. Harry's been trying to bond a Hangori for a very long time."

"And it never worked!" Hal rebutted.

"No, it never did. Or so you told Snow. But now here's the proof in your little pudding. You're a liar and you'll always be a liar. I want South America. And if you come peacefully, I'll give you the red carpet back in London that you want. Got 'em all primed. You - the _real_ you - could take Snow's place so easily and you _know_ it. You're next in line, cuckoo habits or no. Besides, I sure as shit can't do it. Unless we want an invulnerable army of munchkins."

"You need me." Hal stated dryly.

"Now he's getting it!" Hetty laughed. "I used to be scared of you, Harry. You were never like the others. You could be a true monster. But not anymore. You've domesticated. You don't scare me now."

Hal felt the fragility of his control slip. She had just given his monster a perfect excuse to manifest. She would never relent. If he hadn't selfishly let himself be swayed from his death by Alex, Hetty would have arrived to an empty house. But now he had no other choice. His fellow Old One had to end.

Hal let go of Alex's hand and tilted his head menacingly. "You are very much mistaken."

"Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't try," Hetty shrugged, casually discounting his threat. Quickly placing fingers to her lips, she whistled. "Come on in, boys!"

The front and back doors both banged opened. Fangs flashing and black eyes gleaming, scruffy, leather dressed vampires poured into their house. Six came in through the kitchen and four through the front. Felipe grinned as Hetty pointed to Hal. "This one, loves."

"And what of the girl?" The closest thug asked with a lewd sneer at Alex.

Hetty just winked. "Don't you worry bout her. Lint on a lolly, she'll stick around."

Alex saw Hal's coiled and poised demeanour unfurl into action. He swung his stake at the closest vampire, instantly on the offensive. "Alex! Not living things!"

As Hal shouted the quote from Annie, Alex instantly knew what he meant. She reached out and caught hold of the two nearest vampires charging Hal, and with a swift tug, she rent-a-ghosted to the first place she could think of.

She appeared back in the Pleasure Park, next to the dodgems. Alex was alone.

Without a spare second to contemplate what had happened to them, she popped back into the living room, appearing in a different spot to grab another unwelcome vampire. Phil snarled at her from across the sofa, but before he could raise a hand against her, she was gone again.

When she teleported back, she caught a glimpse of Hal putting up a mean fight against several. They weren't out to hurt him though, but to capture, which gave Hal an advantage. Hetty sat at the bar, clear of the melee as Hal blocked one vampire then threw a GQ magazine at another, the distraction just enough for a thrust in with his stake. Richard looked astonished at the eruption of ash in front of him, then met Alex's gaze from across the room before she was gone in another split second jump.

* * *

The back garden door was already open when they arrived. Rook motioned for silence, then peered in. The corridor was empty, so he gave a nod to Nave and Allison. She could hear sounds of a scuffle further inside.

"They're in the living room," she said, hushed.

They ducked into the house and crept through to the kitchen, dropping below the line of sight from the pass-through. Thankfully, the swing doors to the living room were closed. The three of them huddled next to the radiator as the sounds of a fight were evident. Allison risked stealing a glance, spotting Alex and Hal in the fight just before Rook yanked her down.

"They're my friends!" she mouthed but Rook held a finger to his lips, insisting on silence.

"Bollocks that!" she whispered and pulled free. Quickly scanning the room, she ducked back down. "Vinicius is here. And Hetty. _And_ Richard!"

"Larkin!" Rook shushed. "You won't be able to answer the door to dissuade reporters if you are dead."

" _No one_ will be answering the door if they keep at it!" Allison countered in a chided whisper under the curdled scream of a staked vampire. "You can't see half of what's going on, so at least let me look." Allison urged.

"Maggie's on her way," Nave countered, glancing at the screen of his mobile just as the ghost appeared in the garden, seen through the open doorway. Clutching a flat, brown paper parcel to her bosom, she caught Allison's eye, then teleported to be squatting next to them. She tucked her parcel into the cupboard shelf opposite from them, and Rook followed the movement.

"Thank you," he mouthed, then motioned towards the fight in the living room. "They have Turner."

Maggie Dan nodded even though only Allison could see her, then disappeared once more.

"And actually, I just saw Miss Millar quite clearly," Rook admitted in surprise, continuing their debate.

Despite the fight in her living room, Allison flushed with giddy excitement. "So she got it back! Maybe they're okay."

Rook pushed up his sleeve to glance at his watch. "Not if they're all still here in ten minutes."

* * *

When Alex returned the third time, it was to a haze of ash and the room on tense pause. Hal had Hetty held brutally against the bar, his stake threateningly close to her chest. The little vampire got over her shock, kicking and hissing as her few remaining henchmen held their ground, unsure of what to do.

"Don't move," he commanded. "Or I'll end her, just like the rest."

Hetty, still straining against Hal, let out a peal of laughter. "Oh bravo! See? A proven and fitting leader. But I call your bluff. You _wouldn't_."

One of the vampires looked to Felipe for assurance and he gave a nod. The remaining vampires stepped forward to take Hal.

"No!" Alex halted them all with a forceful push of energy. Strengthened by her renewed connection with Hal, they all were stopped in their tracks. One growled, but another nervously swallowed.

Felipe just laughed, then retaliated with a loose wave of his hand. Alex was shoved into the bookcase. "Strong, yes. Experienced? I think no."

With Alex held against the bookcase, the four remaining vampires leapt forward. One reached for Hal, nearly upon him, but then staggered as a barstool toppled and rolled under his feet. Maggie Dan appeared next to Alex, one arm towards Felipe as the barstool careened into the closest assailant. Suddenly freed, Alex returned her strength to the fight and successfully blocked the other vampires.

"You had all these people turned," Hal glowered over Hetty. "And for what?"

Hetty gave a nervous smile, her bravado lessening as the fight swayed out of her favour. "Were they enough for you? We cleaned up half of Tottenham to make last night convincing."

"This has to stop," Hal declared.

"It will if you want it to. Come back to us," she asserted. "Lead them with me, Hal. It's _our_ time now. Everything is falling into place."

Hal just gave a sad shake of his head. "You won't ever comprehend, will you? It can _never_ be our time."

Hal raised his arm and without hesitation, thrust it down. Hetty's eyes dropped with unbelieving surprise to the stake plunged into her chest.

"But," she whispered, all her youthful cadence gone. "You'll be all alone in the world. I thought…" Hetty's words trailed off as her skin started to crack.

Hal remained perfectly still, watching the lines swiftly spread. "I'm not alone," he uttered as the cracking hit Hetty's petrified face. He pulled the stake free and Hetty exploded into ash, the silty white cloud falling starkly around Hal.

Alex watched Hal's jaw clench, his breathing laboured. She replayed the conversation they had mere days ago. _Could you do it?_ He could.

Richard Turner was staring intently at Hal's checked form with a bewildered expression, his aghast eyes saying more than words. He hadn't expected that Hal could actually do it. Hal Yorke had ended the only other Old One left.


	42. Unfinished Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal._
> 
> _This penultimate chapter goes quite heavy handed into the supernatural. Hopefully it's still in a Being Human sort of way. Reviews, as always, are love._

Maggie Dan broke the solemn silence with a psychic shove towards the uncertain vampires. "Scram! Get out of here!"

She didn't have to tell them twice. Released, they backed towards the foyer, giving Hal a wide berth. He didn't even seem to see them as they all pushed out the door and fled. Felipe stepped around from behind Richard's chair and began to retreat towards the door as well.

"Not so fast." Maggie ordered, rent-a-ghosting to catch him by the ear. His eyes grew wide. She slammed him against the wall, causing the gold starburst clock to fall off it's hook and crash to the ground. "Let him go."

"You can have Mr. Turner. I don't care," he replied with a tone of indifference.

"Let go of that poor fella you're walking around in," Maggie clarified as she bracketed Felipe's temples with her palms, pushing him back into the room. "Let go, you fiend!"

At first, Felipe laughed. Then, his expression dropped. Alex suddenly understood why Maggie had been patrolling the corridors of the intensive when they first met, looking for 'snatchers'. She could exorcise them. Maggie _pushed_ , forcing the ghost out of Vinicius' body. Keeping her palms against his head, she exerted her will against Felipe's until he phased out of his host. The body fell away and crumpled backwards, landing like a discarded garment into a broken heap.

The true Felipe was non-descript. Brown hair, plain features and average height, he was dressed simply in a long-sleeved white shirt under a loose, brown waistcoat. His light cotton trousers were rolled up to the ankles over bare feet tanned by the sun. He had been young when he died, barely an adult. He screamed a long wail against Maggie's forced eviction, and she tightened her grip.

Felipe's wail tapered off… into a grin. Suddenly, he shoved back, fighting against her. Maggie, despite all her ferocity and experience and psychic ability, _flickered_. She wasn't going to be strong enough. "Now would be a good time, girlie!" she shouted, suddenly alarmed.

Alex was at Maggie's side in an instant. She caught hold of Felipe's wrist with two hands and was thrown into the struggle of a battle of wills.

"I can't hold this one. He's too strong," Maggie whispered to Alex, and the ghost they held smiled. He shimmered underneath their grip. Free of his living host, he was attempting to teleport.

Alex gasped and hardened her grip. The wrist she held was slipping free. She imagined this was what it felt like to catch someone going over a cliff; an iron grip, but still slipping. Felipe's gaze turned from Maggie, to her.

"You're very strong, but still not strong enough. I can draw from half the Lobisomem, little ghost," he spat as his eyes began to glow with a strange ultra-violet light.

The hand she held was fading. He would rent-a-ghost out from under them! Maggie growled, Alex strained, and they both tried to hold on with all they had. Then Alex realised - it wasn't that Felipe was teleporting. It was _they_ who were fading from the attempt to stop him. Somehow this ghost was drawing from them. The harder Alex held on, the more the sensation of slipping increased.

Hal stepped in behind her. Alex felt him even before he touched her - solid, strong, grounded and real. His breath was a whisper across the back of her neck as he rested his head against hers. His hand shook and fingers trembled as they pushed past her collar to the skin of her neck. His other hand still gripped the stake he had just used to kill Hetty, held against her jacket. Their bond flared at the contact into an infusion of warmth and strength, and Hal's shuddering breath hitched.

Alex kept her grip with renewed strength. If she had been about to careen off the cliff, Hal had caught her. With a simple embrace, he had just saved _her_ for once. Hal trembled. Alex could feel that their contact was growing in difficulty for him by the second. She had to take the upperhand he had given her and retaliate. Quickly.

"That may be," she countered, her confidence growing. "But Brazil is awfully far away."

Felipe's face fell and his grin faded. He began to look quite alarmed as Alex began to grow cold. Hal's fingertips became so cold as to feel the phantom heat of frostbite. He could sense the shift in Alex as she began to reverse what Felipe had taken. Alex's eyes started to glow and Maggie's grew wide. Energy gathered and swirled around them, creating a vortex with Felipe at it's center. Just as the ghost had previously drawn from her, Alex began to channel energy not only from Hal, but from Felipe.

Maggie shuddered and suddenly let go, flinging herself free. Alex took over completely, catching Felipe's head between her hands. The ghost's face was contorting into a soundless scream of pain as he clawed futilely at Alex's sleeves.

Alex was going to obliterate him. Exactly as Annie had done to Kirby.

"Alex, stop," Hal uttered, even as he doubted the plan he was forming in the moment. But he couldn't let her do this. It was one thing to kill vampires, but this was a human soul. No matter how far from the path Hal himself had gone, he refused to allow the same of her. "Alex, stop!"

Hal wrapped his arms around her and held fast. It was like keeping hold of a live wire - the jolt of pure energy, of the _power_ they had summoned. But he held fast. "Alex, please," he gritted out the words. "There's another way."

The distortion of Felipe's features stopped, the apparent agony tapering off. "But he's dangerous," Alex stated in a haunted voice, her eyes aglow.

"Yes, but there is another way."

Alex finally gave a hesitant nod. The otherworldly light in her eyes faded away as she took a deep breath.

"You gonna kick him to the ghouls?" Maggie asked. She had knelt next to the fallen form of Vinicius with a strained expression. "Be my guest. Those nasty buggers with sticks and rope will make him wish for the oblivion she would have bestowed. We're too late for the professor here - it won't be long till we get his door."

"I could have told you that," Felipe countered. "Poor Vinnie hit his head a little too hard. Only thing keeping him with us _é me_."

"There's another way he can be of… service." Hal stated, ignoring Felipe. At that, Maggie cocked her head while Alex, grounded by Hal, kept her hands bracketed on either side of Felipe's head. "Allison?" Hal called out, before he could change his mind. "Could you bring the box of salt from the pantry? And please, Dominic - you need to leave."

Alex stole a glance over her shoulder, confused, but then Allison stood from her hiding place, framed by the kitchen pass-through. Dominic Rook and Mike Nave stood shortly after as well. Regarding the scene briefly, Allison turned to the pantry with haste.

"I can smell you both. Please, go!" Hal ordered the two humans, still hugging Alex close. Mike Nave looked to Rook, then began to cautiously back away, believing Hal's threat.

"We'll keep watch outside," Rook conceded, beginning to follow his operative, then paused. "Maggie? We're in your debt, as always," he said to the air. "But you may still be needed if those reporters arrive."

Maggie nodded, standing as Rook and Nave departed through the back door.

"You okay, Hal?" Alex asked in a whisper, feeling the tension in his posture. If the presence of Rook and Nave lurking in their kitchen was triggering his bloodlust, her own neck was far more immediate. But she wasn't sensing the threat of hunger from him. Not yet anyways. His embrace was tense, but still felt controlled, and supportive.

"I'm okay," he answered her softly.

Still held fast by Alex, Felipe huffed, trying to push against her to no avail. "Salt will not hold me forever."

"It should hold long enough," Hal countered as Allison came through the swinging doors, clutching a large box of Tesco cooking salt. "Thank you, Allison. Now, encircle us, please."

"Jaysus - you buy that in case I went off the rails?" Alex scoffed.

"No. I bought it when Tom scorched the cast iron."

Allison pushed up her glasses with a brief questioning look, but then stooped and proceeded to trace the ground around them with a line of white granules. Felipe gritted his teeth. "What are you up to, Yorke? You'll trap your girl as well as me."

Allison hesitated, but then trusting Hal's lead, continued as he had directed. "Hope you know what you're doing," she uttered while carefully going around the fallen form of Vinicius to complete the circle.

Alex felt a strange confined feeling click into place as Allison stood, holding the empty salt package. Felipe must have felt the boundary close as well because he renewed his struggle.

Hal leaned in, holding Felipe's fighting eyes, then whispered in Alex's ear, "Let's go." He stepped backwards, urging her with him.

She let him lead her backwards. A sound like nails on a blackboard filled her ears in a deafening rush as Hal stepped over the line of salt. He still urged her with him, and careful of the line, she stepped backwards. The barrier let her pass with Hal in a shivering wave. At the last possible moment, she let go of the fighting ghost. The screeching sound snuffed to a close as if she had shut a door. Alex stood with Hal on the opposite side of a force that Felipe pushed and kicked against, to no avail. They had trapped him.

"Well ain't that a trick," Maggie clicked her tongue and shook her head. "You're full of surprises, handsome."

Allison shook her head in excited wonder, "It's your bond, isn't it? Alex is anchored again, so of course she could pass through with you. But how did you know it would work?"

"I didn't," Hal let go of his hold on Alex, breaking their contact and thereby his temptation, with an audible breath of relief. "Faith, I suppose," he said, meeting Alex's gaze as she bit her lip. But there wasn't time to dwell. Hal walked over to Richard and with one swift tug he pulled the tape clear of his partner's mouth.

"Argh!" Richard bellowed, a rectangle of red flushing his face.

"Maggie," Hal said as he continued behind the chair to unfasten Richard's bonds. "If reporters are coming here, then we need a few minutes to get Richard clear. Can you check with Rook and keep watch?"

"Sure thing," she answered, then disappeared.

As soon as she was gone, Hal said, "Richard, you finally have your chance."

"What? Now? This - thing? If he's a Hangori then his familiar is a wolf!" Richard grimaced with disbelief.

"More like an entire pack of wolves. However distasteful that is, I'd wager it will still work." Hal loosened the last knot and Richard stood, rubbing his wrists.

"I'd wager it won't," Felipe scoffed. "Mr. Snow would have mentioned if he thought I was true Hangori."

"Snow wouldn't have told you," Hal rebutted. "You think this wasn't his plan all along? Did you believe he would spare you for those years of service? Did you know him at all?" At Hal's speculation, Felipe's expression fell into a slight line of doubt.

Hal came to stand next to Vinicius, regarding the professor's fallen body before resuming. "You were tied to the Lobisomem, which is why you believed you needed one of them to travel this far. Only... you had to take someone the tribe wouldn't miss. Someone they hadn't even known had _joined_ their tribe." Hal looked back up to the trapped ghost in the middle of their living room. "You turned Vinicius by possessing another during transformation, then abducted him. If you are the only thing keeping him anchored here, then that proves it. Your bond stuck."

"Hal, what are you doing?" Alex asked. He could sense by merely her tone that she was working it out.

"Richard has to take a soul. And there's not a chance in Hell he's going anywhere near yours," he answered her plainly. "Richard, do you want this, or no?"

"I thought you said there was a ritual," Richard asked, dubiously rubbing his face.

Felipe urgently pressed against the barrier of salt, his hands up against the invisible force. " _Certo_ \- yes - there must be preparations? Astrological alignments - or cleansings?"

"Wait, you're going to _what_?" Allison exclaimed, catching up to what they were discussing.

"It's true. The preparations to become an Old One were historically exhaustive. Mr. Snow was very particular. We do not have the luxury, so you're getting the abridged version. My other self may not be so inclined. So Richard, do you _want_ this, or no?"

"You would really do this for me? After all this time?" Richard whispered.

"I keep my promises," Hal stated darkly, catching Alex's eye. He held their gaze briefly, then stooped towards the unconscious Vinicius.

"But," Allison started to argue. "What do you mean he has to take a _soul_?"

Alex placed a hand on her friend's shoulder, staying the girl. She felt a strange sense of calm. Hal had just stopped her from effectively doing just that - ending a soul. But she understood. Richard, just like Hetty, wouldn't stop until he had what he wanted. Unlike Hetty however, Richard's reasons were personal. He wasn't after the power of being an Old One.

 _I miss it sometimes. How the music would resonate,_ he had admitted to her _._ Richard Turner just wanted the side effect of immunity - to be able to cross into sacred grounds. He wanted to be a little closer to human.

"I know your argument, Allison, and you would be in the right," Hal answered their housemate's question as he lifted the unconscious body on the floor by the shoulders. "But sometimes the right thing isn't necessarily so clear. I owe this. Call it my unfinished business." Hal positioned Vinicius next to the circle of salt. "Felipe has been possessing members of the Lobisomem for a very long time, and I was the one who told him how. Snow wanted to keep an eye on the pack. Vampires couldn't get close without detection, but a ghost could. With the right motivation, anyone will do anything," he said poignantly, and Felipe glanced away, shame flashing briefly across his features.

"I took his life, then promised a way to another," Hal concluded. "Possession is a very dangerous habit for a ghost to form. Every encounter is an addicting sojourn into the living. Once a ghost learns how, they never stop. It is time for it to end, but you do not have to stay and be privy to it."

Allison swallowed, then looked to the trapped ghost. He shook his head at her. "Não, Allison. Do not let him! I can stop. I can change. There is no more Snow. No more Hetty!"

"They didn't force you to keep taking people," Hal countered. "I understand it now - what I couldn't then. No one can force a ghost to become Hangori. It's a choice. And you haven't done anything you didn't actually wish for," Hal said, then lifted Vinicius' limp arm by the wrist. "Richard?"

As Richard stepped forward, Hal brought his own wrist to his mouth and bit through, then extended the wound. Richard just raised an aristocratic eyebrow. "Drink? From you?" he asked, and Hal nodded.

Shakily, Richard knelt to take the offering, bringing Hal's wrist to his lips. His eyelids lowered with the obvious pleasure of it. One second, two, three... Hal only let Richard drink briefly while Alex and Allison watched in surprise, before pulling free.

Richard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "And now?"

"Now take him," Hal instructed simply. Felipe's eyes darted to Richard, who stood staring at him with ominous concentration. Backing away, Felipe tried to distance himself, but was trapped inside his circle of confinement. With his attention fixed on Richard, he was caught off guard when Hal lashed out over the line of salt to catch hold of the ghost's bare ankle. "Now!" he urged.

"It's that simple?" Richard asked, stating the disbelief that Alex shared.

"You have to drain him," Hal answered, clenching his teeth in exertion, keeping hold as Felipe fell to the ground, struggling desperately to break free. But there wasn't anywhere he could go. The ghost couldn't teleport from inside the circle, and his powers were reduced. Like a conduit, Hal kept one hand on the fallen Vinicius, and clutched the ghost with the other.

Alex remembered when Hetty had bit her. _Take his hand, and give me yours,_ she had said, tricking her before Alex had known better. A Hangori was made real by contact with their bond. Felipe had bonded with one member of the Lobisomem after another in order to possess them, following the line of the tribe's werewolf curse, stepping out to his true form only at the moment of transformation with the full moon, just as Allison had witnessed.

Felipe bent forward to pry at Hal's fingers wrapped around his ankle. But Richard caught him by the throat and pulled him back, his eyes smouldering to black. With the small token of his blood, Hal had brought Richard into the circuit between Hangori and host. The ghost flailed in desperation against the two of them as Richard leaned in with fangs flashing to tear at his neck, biting down.

Hal tore his gaze away from the ghostly blood. He looked to Alex with a pained flush of hunger, then winced his eyes shut. Allison took Alex's hand as Felipe kicked and gurgled, then she too looked away. But Alex couldn't stop watching. It was almost what Hal had done to her. It was the threat of what Hetty had wanted... and what Hal could still do. And yet, she knew now that it was her choice. She could choose to let go of their bond at any moment. And so could Felipe, had he truly understood it.

As Richard drank, a nimbus of light grew into a flare from Felipe's chest. It flared, then flickered. The ghost dimmed as he struggled and grew transparent. He was fading, but Richard held tighter. The light shimmered between them like a reflection on water, growing darker as Richard kept drinking, as if from a passing cloud. Felipe's struggle was waning. Then suddenly, both the light, and Felipe were gone.

Hal lowered his empty hand and let Vinicius' arm fall with a limp thud. Richard gasped, his extended fangs completely clean, despite the carnage they had all just witnessed. His eyes cleared from vampiric black, alight with a strange glow. Richard's expression widened in astoundment - just before he pitched forward into unconsciousness.

Hal exhaled an exhausted huff of relief as Richard's face hit the carpet, then looked to Vinicius. The unconscious Brazilian anthropologist had grown extremely pale.

Shakily, like she was waking from a dream, Allison let go of her grip on Alex and rummaged in the pocket of her jumper. "I'll call 999."

Hal just shook his head as he slowly came to stand. "Don't. He's dead."

The resounding silence sat heavily between the three of them as they all stared at the body on their living room floor. After a pause, Alex broke the silence. "We have to hide Richard."

"As it turns out," Rook's voice preceded him through the open foyer door. "That will no longer be necessary." He revealed a tranquiliser pistol from the inside of his suit jacket as he glanced dubiously at Richard's prone form. "It's done. McNair has proven to be quite convincing. The hoax is hardly getting coverage. Though Nave and Maggie are still keeping watch outside to be sure. Now all that is left is to get certain loose ends safely detained."

Rook clicked the safety off and took aim at Hal, who regarded him coolly. Alex stepped between them, holding up her hands and Rook hesitated. He obviously could see her. "Please," she said. "I'll take Hal. Promise."

"What have you done with Tom?" Hal interrupted.

Rook looked Alex in the eyes, then seeming to trust her, lowered the weapon. "Tom McNair has been arrested for questioning. As have Mr. Gwedore, Mr. O'Meara and Miss Stammers. Thank heavens vampires do not show up on film, so it is merely a disturbance of the peace and trespass charge at this point."

"Excuse me, a what?" Hal asked, furrowing his brow in distaste at his own confusion.

"A second anonymous video has arrived to the news room. Our legal team is already sorting the situation. They will all be extradited in a matter of days."

"Wait - you had Tom arrested on purpose?" Alex asked, just as confused as Hal.

"He gave them permission," Allison offered.

"Of course," Rook agreed. "McNair was one of the more prominently featured in the footage, so who else? Many of the 'extras' had already left town. And conveniently, Tom already has a history of fighting imaginary people."

"I'm still not following," Hal admitted. He tapped his fingers repetitively in flustered frustration. Alex began to think that Rook's idea with the tranquiliser wasn't a bad one. Hal was exhausted. And hungry. She wondered how much longer he really could hold it together.

"It was all an elaborate hoax you see," Rook beamed, clasping his wrist behind his back "Youths making an independent film. There are receipts and records," Rook gave a pleased smile. "Additional footage of their production and staging storeroom was uncovered at the arrest this afternoon."

"A film. They're really going to believe that?" Alex asked, folding her arms over her chest in obvious disbelief.

"Yes, they will. They already have. There are records. Paper trails do not lie," Rook answered smugly. "The painting is another matter. Memories will have to be shifted for those who have seen it. Thankfully, with the invaluable assistance of Maggie Dan, it has already gone missing."

"If it all went so well," Hal asked, "why did you even bother coming here?"

"We never assume, Hal, that we're infallible. We were here in case there was need to stave off any curious lead-followers. Milo's parcel received by the newsroom this morning included this address."

"Hetty," Hal shook his head. "She wanted Tom and Allison to be found along with Richard. This house would have been the epicenter of supernatural exposure."

"Thank goodness that didn't happen," Allison piped in, eyeing Richard. "Will he be alright?"

"Richard will be high as a flash house when he awakes, but should be fine," Hal answered.

"What just happened, exactly?" Rook asked, and both Allison and Alex quickly looked to Hal. He smoothly shrugged.

"The ghost got to him. And then we banished the ghost."

"Um, would anyone else like tea?" Allison interrupted the brief pause after Hal's short explanation. "I think I'm a touch overdue." When no one immediately answered her, she overly enthusiastically said, "I'll make a pot."

Rook's eyes narrowed, sensing there was something Hal left out, but he didn't force the issue. "Richard will need to return with us. He knows too much."

"Yes, he does," Hal agreed. "I think you'll find him more cooperative after recent events, however."

"I do hope so. It would be ideal if Mr. Turner could return to his areas of expertise."

Hal held Rook's gaze for a long moment, giving a slight tilt to his head like he was working something out. Seeing the mistrust from Hal, Rook added, "There are very few who understand truly long-term investments better than he."

Hal suddenly huffed a laugh. "The Department invested 'His Majesty's Gift' with _Richard_?"

"Some. We wouldn't want all of our eggs in one basket now. But it has certainly been the most successful," Rook smiled.

"Which is why you didn't just kill him. Christ."

"Oh, and they found my car, thank you very much," Rook declared, returning the pistol to his pocket. He walked across the room to pick up the television remote from the arm of the sofa. "She had a sport suspension, you know."

"Yes, quite comfortable to drive," Hal answered with a sarcastic smile.

"Oh, well! I'm glad you think so," Rook jibbed, then clicked on the tele. He scanned through the channels until he landed on channel four. "We have gotten incredibly lucky," he continued darkly, eyes fixed on the television screen as Hal approached. Channel four news flashed sweeping pictures of flooded streets and drowned tube lines before the image zoomed out to a polished presenter seated at a wide desk. "Most of the newsroom has been put on Hurricane Sandy reports."

"- _leaving more than five million people without power today._ _At this point, nearly fifteen thousand flights have been cancelled. The storm has moved inland from the eastern coast where it continues to wreak a tremendous amount of damage. The full extent of the destruction caused will probably not be known for weeks. Sources are estimating that the the total cost could reach forty five billion dollars or more._ "

Alex regarded the scenes on the news and crossed her arms over her chest. "Huh. I'm not sure I would call that lucky."

"Our local inconvenience at the Pleasure Park will be swiftly forgotten in light of all this. The news is fickle that way, thankfully," Rook responded. With a weary sigh, he took a seat at the end of the sofa.

"In local interests," the newscaster continued with an organised shuffle of his reader notes. "What had been believed to be a lost painting by Rembrandt resurfaced in Wales this morning, has gone missing again. Before the artwork could be expertly verified, it was mysteriously misplaced. Police are questioning known forgers and ask that -"

"It's here, isn't it? What will you do with it?" Allison asked, watching through the pass-through with a glance to the cabinet behind her.

"A good question," Rook answered, his gaze still on the television. "It appears that those involved in the plot to expose us have all been neutralised. However, our systems and vulnerabilities will need to be reassessed. The Archive project was historically only accessed by a small and trusted few."

"What changed?" Hal asked, keeping his distance by remaining standing a few feet away. He kept his focus on the tele even though he addressed Rook.

"Budget cuts, if you must know. We closed our other Western operation in the '08 recession and became headquartered here. The Department's funding fluctuates with our long term investments. I'm sure you of all people understand how that can change things from time to time."

"Indeed," Hal answered with a small smile.

"Our London division has become quite efficient using the rented parcel box system. The west just doesn't warrant enough activity for a separate locale."

"Will you return this location to limited access now however? After all this?" Allison asked, rejoining the room with a full tea tray.

"In time, yes," Rook answered, then took the cup of tea Allison offered. "In light of current events we will have a full system sweep and a tightening of access points. But we still will need to utilise a base of operations."

"What of Bristol?" Hal asked.

"What of it?"

"The Clifton Rocks Railway was mine. I have no use for it now," Hal stated, then shifted his gaze to the mantle. Anywhere but at the human on their sofa. "I imagine it is in need of some repair after it was bombed, but therein contained an elaborate underground system beyond the fight ring."

"You would… donate it?" Rook looked dubious as he took a sip of his tea.

Hal began tapping his fingers in counted succession, but took a deep breath. "I'd rather it went to your cause instead of returned to its previous purpose. I will ask Richard to negotiate the property transfer."

Rook glanced to where they had left Richard lying on the floor. "You are certain he will be alright?"

"Yes," Hal answered shortly. "Please have him come speak to me when he awakes. It shouldn't be more than a few hours."

"You will voluntarily return to detainment?"

"I had been about to before this all happened. It won't be long before I become… volatile."

"You may use one of the isolation rooms as long as you require. Yorke, I -" Rook started to say something reluctantly, but then a small chime of his mobile made him retrieve it from his pocket. "That would be our transport. Excuse me a moment."

"So," Alex looked to Hal. "How _do_ you want to do this? That room was equipped for chains," she joked, trying to make light. She didn't want to face it, but Hal had been growing increasingly squirrelly. The lapse to the withdrawals overcoming him was closer than he was directly admitting. Hal clenched his hands into fists, stopping the giveaway movement of his fingers.

"I do not _want_ to do this, but needs must," he answered her. "The chair will suffice for now. And," he paused with a glance to where Rook's neck was illuminated by the screen of his mobile while he typed. "The quickest way is probably wise."

Alex extended her hand. "Okay then. I'll come back for the chair."

Hal clenched his jaw and took a step towards Alex. He paused before taking her hand however. "Allison, would you please tell Tom I'm sorry? I may not be inclined to later... given the time it could take for him to be released."

She pushed her glasses up, then gave a small nod. "Alright. But can't he come visit you?"

"I'm certain he will try," Hal answered with a slight smile. Then he took Alex's hand.

As soon as they touched, she whisked them to stand in the deserted corridor deep in Archive. The door to the room Hal had previously escaped from was still open. His jacket still lay forgotten over the foot of the hospital trolley. Hal quickly let go of her hand and walked through the threshold. When he turned to face her, his relief was clear. "Alex… I -"

"Shh," she said. "I'll be right back."

He held her gaze, then gave a small nod before shutting the door.

When Alex rent-a-ghosted back into the living room of Honolulu Heights, Allison was heading towards the circle of salt with a dust bin. She held a finger up to her lips when she saw Alex, then tilted her head towards the sofa.

Phone on his knee, Dominic Rook had closed his eyes. Showing a newfound trust in the supernaturals around him, in the short span of quiet Rook had fallen asleep. Alex smiled. "Let him sleep, eh?" she whispered under the background drone of the news. "I think it's been awhile."

Allison nodded in agreement, then started cleaning up the salt.

When Alex returned to the Archive, she used one of the straps dangling off Hal's chair to push open the door. He was seated in the far corner, his back to the wall and hands on his knees.

"You ready for this? Because I'm sure as feck not," she said as she set the chair down in the centre of the room. He stood fluidly.

Hal rested his hand on the worn arm of the chair. "I most definitely will not say this later, but… thank you."

Alex's heart nearly broke at the weight in his simple words. She wanted to reach out - to hug him, to hold him close, but she knew that would only make things worse.

Hal took a deep breath that shook on the exhale, then took a seat. He bent forward to secure the straps at his feet.

"Hal, I'm so sorry. I really wish -"

"It's not your fault," he rebutted before she could finish, sitting upright and holding her gaze. "This... will be temporary," he said with sad acceptance as he fastened the strap at his left wrist. "We've gone through it before. But Alex, you cannot stay. You musn't."

Alex bit her lip and swallowed down the lump of emotion in her throat, but she nodded in acceptance. She knew he was right. Then, bravely holding back tears, she kneeled in front of him. As she reached for the last strap, she caught and held his eyes. He stared back at her with an open and honest intensity. "I really do love you, you know," Alex finally uttered.

"I know," he answered softly. "I love you too. Please - remember that."

"It will have to be enough," she determined. "Enough to carry us both through."

Alex bound Hal's wrist to the frame.


	43. Secrets Kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables my grammar to pass muster for Hal._  
>     
>  _Endings are terribly, terribly hard. Which is why this took so long, and also why we're not ~quite~ there yet. For anyone out there still keeping up with this story, I thank you. Drop me a note and let me know what you think. Reviews are the currency of this so-called society._

Rosanna Bellante looked like hell. Her beautiful blue eyes were strained and bloodshot. She smelled pretty bad too. They had left her shackled to the interrogation room table since yesterday, he'd heard. When Richard entered the room and sat opposite of her, she barely acknowledged his appearance.

"So, you're in with all this too," she uttered eventually, her voice hoarse. "My chiropractor is going to have a field day after what Henry's dog did." Rosanna rubbed her neck to accentuate the point.

Richard pulled his flask from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and slid it across the table within her reach, then casually leaned back in his seat. She paused for half a second, looking at it warily before meeting his gaze as she snatched up the flask like the deprived creature she was. Richard waited while she gulped down the entirety of its contents. Richard waited until she was ready to speak.

"I don't know how he bloody does this," she gave a little laugh as she set the flask down, her hand shaking. He answered her with a mere smile and waited for her to continue. "It makes sense now - Hetty. She has a plan, you know. To expose something big. It's all of this. This place. Them. You," Rosanna shuddered. The fresh blood hitting her system made her words choppy. Richard clasped his hands together on the table and leaned forward.

"Zanna, Hetty is dead," he spoke the news simply.

Rosanna's disbelief was evident, but when he didn't say anything further, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Henry?"

"Henry is--" Richard paused to make his words deliberate. "Yes, Henry killed her." There was a strong mix of emotions on Rosanna's face as the news sank in, but Richard caught a flash of her curiosity as well. "Before you ask, no, he's not back. I'm beginning to think he never will be. The Old Ones' reign is over. Hetty's plan failed. You have a choice, Rosanna."

"Yeah, and what would that be?" She bristled, hurt and confusion igniting that fiery temper of hers.

"The Council," he answered calmly. "Someone needs to step up to take Hetty's place. I'd like for you to join me."

She huffed, "As a rat, like you? If you think I'd -" she shook her head, still holding the empty flask. "How long have you been working for these people, Richard?"

Richard glanced at his watch. "Oh, only about six hours officially now. But I would have a lot sooner, had I known. We need them. We have for centuries. Everything here is for a delicate subterfuge - one which I inadvertently started, as it turns out. So yes, I'm cooperating on behalf of all of our secrets," Richard declared solidly. "Having a leader in the know has many advantages for them. But so does being a leader who is aware of their work. If we continue with discretion, then we can continue much as we always have."

"You really believe that? These people are savages! They would have happily left me to the wolves if they hadn't thought I'd be useful!"

Richard's raised eyebrow caused Rosanna to catch herself with a beaten sigh. "Their mission, if you haven't gathered already," he added, "is merely to keep the supernatural world shrouded in supposition and myth. They do not attempt to police us because they know enough to realise it would be a lost cause. They do not interfere, except to tidy away that which we do not ourselves. This clandestine organisation has kept the belief going that Man is in control of his domain. We can continue as we always have. And you could join me. The Council is ours for the moulding. Otherwise..." Richard glanced to the concrete walls.

"They'll kill me, you mean. Because I know about them. I'm either with you, or dead." She stated what they both knew was true. "Is this how they got to Spike?"

"No," Richard shook his head. "Our dear Steven was approached. Recruited, as it were, to spy on the two of us." He laughed at the irony. "You realise that Spike spoke up for you? He's the one who told them to wait. He wants to believe in you."

Rosanna licked her lips and turned her gaze to examine the flask in her hands. "And what about Henry?"

"Henry is the very last of his kind," Richard lied, but then peppered it with truth. "He truly wishes no part of this. In fact, I'm to proceed as if I were the one who killed him, just after he ended Hetty. Henry wishes to disappear."

"So he's going to stay clean. And dull," she huffed. "What exactly is your proposition for me then?"

"There were witnesses to Hetty's demise. I'm certain the news has already begun to spread," Richard speculated.

"But none for dear Henry's death. Because yet again, it _didn't bloody happen_." Rosanna tapped the table to punctuate the statement.

"I want you to bear witness. That I killed Henry Yorke," Richard stated solemnly. "The secrets of the Old Ones need to die with him. Otherwise, he will always be hunted."

"Give me one good reason why I should care? Bastard gets what he deserves, if you ask me."

"He is giving you another chance, Rosanna. He of all people believes that we're capable of change. And that includes you. Whatever has passed between you is in the past. Hal doesn't wish you dead."

"And I would be, if I don't agree to this scheme, is that it?"

"Astute," Richard answered plainly.

"And if I do - say I stoop to this little game? What makes you think I won't snitch years from now? Revealing the fact that someone still knows Snow's secrets would give me a hell of a leg up."

"So, marry me. Be my new partner," Richard reasoned. Which caused Rosanna to sputter.

_"What?"_

"Miss Bellante, would you consider holding a vested interest in 'Turner Properties'?" Richard elaborated. "With Henry truly gone, our long hidden love can flourish. Or, so will be our story. I need to keep you close. It will be some time before anyone here will trust you. Our partnership would give you that 'leg up' you desire."

"Marriage." Rosanna made quite the face.

"Oh, come now. It's not so bad."

"Aren't you dating your secretary? Besides, I didn't think you actually liked me," she scoffed, but appeared to be eyeing him up.

"Rosanna, Henry is my closest friend. Even knowing what he was up to all these years, I wouldn't have dared. If the pendulum of his interest was to ever sway back into your favour? But this was his suggestion," Richard stated. "Nor am I currently seeing anyone, as if that matters. If you and I were to form an alliance, it would show solidarity in lieu of our lost leaders. We're to let the Council continue to believe that they are the only ones behind the curtain. The networks in law enforcement and the blood donors will be back in place. And we will all get to continue in peace."

"Including Henry." Rosanna sighed, then cradled her chin in her palm. The chain at her wrist clinked while she contemplated. "He wants them to think that you killed him, you said?"

"Yes."

"I'll consider your offer," she stated, sitting upright. "But on one condition." She gave a sly smile and Richard cocked his head and waited for her to continue. "Let me be the one who ends the great Henry Yorke in your little tale. No one will ever believe that you did it. You're far too loyal."

Richard huffed a laugh, then smiled in turn. "I suppose you have a point. Can I get you another flask? We'll have much to discuss."

"Must you even ask, turtledove?"

* * *

  
Tom slipped away while Gwedore, Irving, and Christa were being debriefed about the Department and its mission. They all had been released ahead of schedule and Alex had gone to tell Allison. She would be here with the car shortly, but Tom was determined to see Hal while he still could.

He found his way down to the containment corridor and was met by a stout and experienced looking guard.

"Calm down - I just want to talk to 'im," Tom gestured disarmingly as the guard stood abruptly.

"Goddamned circus down here if you ask me," the man muttered under his breath, dubiously looking Tom over. "But suit yourself. Rook said you'd show."

"If he goes unruly I can handle it," Tom assured as he opened the door.

"Hal," Tom said forcibly, which didn't bring about any response from the immobile vampire. Tom stepped into the little room and pulled the door closed behind him, ignoring the protest of the guard. But this was to be a private conversation - as well as Tom could provide anyways, given the circumstances.

The room dropped into shadow without the corridor light. "Hal, mate," he tried again, softening his voice. "When Alex told me you'd gone off, I… well, I doubted you and I'm sorry."

Tom sighed and looked down at his sneakers, dropping his hands into the pockets of his jumper without concern for the threat of the captive vampire. "Thing is, it wasn't because of killing that Castle fella. That I understood. But for you to fall after, well, I believed it. I believed you could've killed that guard. Betrayed Alex. That you fled to give in to the blood lust, even after all this time."

Tom heard Hal take a deep breath, but his friend still didn't say anything. Tom returned his gaze to the floor, uncomfortable. This talk had gone better in his head. "What I mean to say is… I failed you. I never shoulda left. I shoulda set this up proper first."

"This is not your fault," Hal uttered softly, then looked up. Even in the low light, Tom noticed that his friend's eyes were reddened with the harsh beginnings of withdrawal.

"I know that. But I also shoulda known you weren't okay."

"No, it is I who failed you," Hal stated with conviction. Tom shook his head but Hal didn't let him argue. "I failed you," Hal repeated, asserting his point, "because I was too wrapped up in my own pain to see all of the consequences. I'm sorry, Tom. I truly am."

Tom paused and ran his hands over his head, unsure of exactly what he could say. Then he shrugged. "No permanent harm done. But… I told ya before to come talk to me. You can, you know? That's what mates be for."

"I know, Tom. I didn't, and I should have. I know," Hal uttered, defeated.

"But would you have even listened?" Tom asked sincerely, causing Hal to drop his eyes again, confirming his guess. "Alex probably was the only one who could get through to you."

"Alex… is stronger than us all," Hal said after a pause.

"Yeah. She could knock some sense into you, is what."

"If she hadn't found me…" Hal trailed off.

"If Alex hadn't found you, we would have lost you then, wouldn't we? One way or the other."

Hal nodded the affirmative.

"What I don't get though, is why? You who always knows the exits and all. Why would you want to… you know?" Tom paused awkwardly, unable to even say it.

"Off myself?" Hal said bluntly, then closed his eyes. "To protect her. To protect you," he stated, then raised his head. "I knew that they would come for me. The Archive was compromised. The house was compromised. And… _I_ had been compromised. There wasn't another way."

Silence hung between them for a moment while Tom mulled over Hal's perspective. But then Tom casually shrugged.

"Yeah, but none of that happened. You didn't. You've got Alex. And you got me and Allison. We're family, and we've got a great big house and there ain't no more Old Ones to worry 'bout. And we saved the Archive from being up on the news. All that's left for us now is a whole lot worth living for."

Hal gave a weary sigh then shook his head. "Tom, please never change."

"Well, I can't do nuttin bout that. Rook's offered me a job."

"And you've accepted?"

Tom shrugged. "It's just a side gig for now. He said werewolves will continue to seek me out after all this. He's probably right."

"Probably," Hal agreed. "As they should. You're a good teacher, Tom."

"Yeah, well," Tom ran his hand over his scars, embarrassed. "Me main job will be to make sure they know ways to transform safely. And to keep tabs on folk."

Hal gave a small huff. "Rook will turn us all into spies before long."

* * *

  
"Will your condition require a regular haunting of our corridors, Miss Millar?"

Dominic Rook's voice startled her out of a lean against Hal's door. At the sarcastic tilt of his sharp eyes, Alex resumed her slouch. Rook appeared better rested than when she had last seen him, asleep on their sofa. She wondered just how long her visibility was going to last. At times, she'd rather she were still invisible. At least then she wouldn't have to explain herself. But fortunately, she didn't have to.

Rook held up a pale hand. "It's no bother. Your presence is merely startling. I'm certain I will grow accustomed. You relieved the guard, I see. How is our charge?"

"Quiet, for now."

"The withdrawals for a vampire are quite biological," Rook stated bluntly, and Alex raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was getting at. "The first weeks anyway. Far as we knew, we weren't aware that it would change."

"Takes someone as stubborn as Hal I suppose," Alex shrugged.

"I suppose. Or else," Rook shrugged. "Experience. Practise with the transition."

Alex crossed her arms more firmly around herself, then looked down. "The transition to it being psychological, you mean."

"In a way. I doubt the urge and instinct ever really leaves him. We shall be curious to observe the process. He starves the vampire into remission, it seems."

Alex looked back up, perplexed by his choice of words. "Like… a cancer?"

"I suppose a parallel could be drawn," Rook answered thoughtfully. "When the body is dying - of cancer for instance - the organs eventually shut down. It actually takes more effort to process food, nourishment. A vampire is already dead, but fresh blood will trigger a renewal, and in turn an increased hunger. So the withdrawals, in a way -"

"Are like dying all over again," Alex concluded Rook's thought.

"He feels his death on endless repeat," Rook stated, staring through the heavy door. A silent pause passed between them before he hardened his jaw. "We would like to take an MRI this afternoon, so will need to sedate him.

"An MRI?" Alex stared at Rook. "Thought vampires didn't show up on film."

"An MRI is sound, not film. No one has survived being accurately staked before. We need to confirm there wasn't any hidden internal damage. For the Archive, I mean."

"I think Hal is physically fine, really," Alex assured. "Aside from hungry, of course."

"I was not asking," Rook rebutted bluntly, then cleared his throat. He quickly looked away. "If there is anything that you need, please call. Anytime."

Alex merely nodded, observing Rook's unspoken guilt before he turned to go. "There is one thing I've been thinking on," she said suddenly, and Rook paused. "Maggie told me… That you could always use the help. I may as well make myself useful while we're here."

Rook turned back to regard her with a quizzical expression. "You would have to be put through training."

"Okay."

"Oddly enough, I'm not sure who could train you," he pondered through narrowed eyes. "Your skillset is… unique."

"How 'bout just as any other bloke and we go from there?"

He observed her momentarily, then gave a terse nod. "I will consider your generous offer."

"Oh, no. It's not _that_ generous," Alex opened her arms to pat imaginary pockets then smiled sweetly. "Just because I'm dead doesn't mean you won't be paying me. We've bills to pay."

Rook smiled in turn, then shook his head, bemused. "Of course."

Her offer must have lowered Rook's inhibitions, for he broached another topic almost as an afterthought. "We're sending someone to Joanópolis. News of all this - the 'Revolution' - hasn't actually reached the Lobisomem, far as we can gather."

"And if news were to reach them?"

"We are working on placing another operative to mitigate. An actual werewolf this time," he stated.

"Milo?" Alex guessed with distaste. "But how can you trust him?"

"Yes, Milo. His motivations... have become transparent. He has already begun to cooperate."

"What about Davi? Why not ask him?"

"Ah, but Davi renounced his tribe, did he not?"

"Yeah, but his reasons…" Alex mused. "His father could have been possessed."

"Their Alpha? He was. Milo admitted as much," Rook said, then furrowed his brow. "Perhaps your first mission, Miss Millar, will be to inform Davi. It could be beneficial to have another checking in on the Lobisomem from time to time."

"Alright. I was going to pop up there to let them know what happened anyway."

"Are you certain that's wise? If Yorke is to _truly_ disappear -"

"Carl's a genuine friend." Alex resumed her lean with a smile. "Trust me on that."

"As you wish," Rook conceded. "Am I correct to assume that you will still be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Report to my office for training at o'nine hundred."

"Alright," Alex smiled.

"Oh, and Millar?" Rook paused in his departure from the corridor. "Please refrain from any further teleportation of Type Twos, aside from Yorke."

"Why's that?"

"Maggie has to convince half of Finnegan's Inn that they didn't see several men appear out of thin air this morning."

"Oh! Good," Alex said with relief.

"No, not good. It was the height of brunch! Thankfully, they all left with haste. Reports say they appeared 'shook up.' Anyhow, best to be avoided in the future."

"Aye, Captain."

"And don't call me that."  
  
"Aye aye," Alex winked. The hint of a blush lit on Dominic Rook's fair cheeks when he turned to go.

She shook her head as Rook's clipped footsteps retreated from the corridor, then glanced to Hal's door. With quick resolve, she pulled loose the handkerchief hidden inside her jacket. Her 'charge' immediately protested when she opened the door.

"You shouldn't be in here."

"Shush. I know when you're still _you_ , you know," Alex said, leaving the door propped open. "And you're hurting."

Hal was curled in on himself, head as low as his restraints would allow. Alex wanted to fast forward. To when Hal would be Hal again. She didn't want to have to see him go through this. And yet, she couldn't seem to stay away. She unconsciously reached a hand towards him, but he immediately flinched. "Don't!" he said sharply.

Alex bit her lip and retracted her hand. Right. Contact between them would only make it worse for him. And she hated that. "Will nothing help?"

Weakly, Hal shook his head. He winced his eyes shut in obvious pain, and Alex was reminded of her conversation with Rook about the nature of vampire withdrawals. It had gotten her thinking. She remembered the dark days with her mother, towards the end of her life. There were times that if Alex could get her to talk, it would sometimes distract enough to help through the pain.

Alex dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged. "Can you tell me what it's like?"

"I want to claw through the concrete to get to them," Hal spat the words vehemently. "And I wish I could just fucking die."

"Um, yeah. Aside from that. How do you feel?"

"Like I've a lance to the gut and God is scraping His fingernails across the inside of my skull."

"Oh," she said awkwardly. After a pause, she mused, "Do you want a paracetamol?"

"Alex, please. _Please_ , stop talking."

"Right," she said after a pause and stood up. Her experiment was an obvious failure. "I'll just be outside then." She started towards the door, but he spoke again, stopping her.

"I know why this happened," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"This?" She asked, not sure she followed him.

"Us. This." He nodded to the space between them. She felt the tug of his eyes. "It's because of this." He pulled against his bonds, then let his clenched fists fall. She was beginning to sense the shift in him, but still couldn't suss out if it was another one of his ploys.

"I've kept a hold of my humanity, even when it hurts like hell." He laughed darkly, then threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Fuck! This place. Alex, please," he pleaded without looking at her. Just like that, the flicker of her Hal was gone. From kind and kind-of-odd, back to 'His Lordship', Mr. Creepy-Shouty.

"We could be great," he concluded darkly. 

Alex didn't even attempt a response as she backed out of the doorway and pulled the door shut. She barely had time to ponder what Hal had meant before she heard the approach of footsteps. Expecting Rook again, or Nave, she tucked the handkerchief away and straightened her posture. But when Rosanna came around the corner all full of sleek grace and not-dead, Alex's posture tensed to a fighting stance.

Rosanna just smiled, then turned the way she had come, saying, "You were right. She's here."

Richard Turner came up behind and placed his hand warmly on her arm.

"Miss Millar," he greeted.

"What's she doing here?" Alex demanded, fully blocking Hal's door. She'd knock the traitor clear off her heels if she had to.

"We've come to bid adieu," Richard answered calmly. "For now. There's work to be done." Richard gave Rosanna a not-so-gentle push forward. "And Zanna here wanted to apologise."

Rosanna did not appear like she wanted to do anything. But she turned from her glare at Richard to regard Alex. After a pause she said, "It's Alex, right?"

Alex was once again struck by how beautiful she was. She and Hal must have made quite the pair back in the fifties. All sleek and lethal. "You don't have to worry about me," Rosanna stated.

"Somehow I doubt that," Alex barbed.

Rosanna huffed, but then seemed to catch herself and softened. She took Richard's hand. "I will be making a new political alliance."

Richard gave a half-dimpled smile as Alex raised an eyebrow at the gesture. "Tell Henry that I'll look after her."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Alex asked the elder vampire.

Richard just shrugged. "Once you ascertain someone's motivations, they're not so complex," he answered, sounding a whole lot like Rook. Or Hal. "We'd appreciate Henry's counsel - once he is well enough to give it. I'll return when I can."

"You really think you can smooth it all over? About Hetty?"

"People believe what they want to. With Henry's... eccentricities and what happened to the rest of the Old Ones, most had already doubted his sanity. It's an easy enough story to spread."

"He's trusting you. Again."

"I am well aware," Richard answered plainly.

Rosanna put her finger to her pursed lips with a curious expression. "Mmm… does he still do that thing with the crème fraîche and the blindfold? I miss that."

"I haven't the faintest what you're on about," Alex growled, wishing the woman would just go away.

"Oo - touchy. You're missing out on his better side, love. That's too bad."

"Zanna," Richard interrupted. "Could you please give us a moment? I will meet you upstairs."

Rosanna raised an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between Richard and Alex. "Whatever you say, Turner." Her tone was miffed, but she heeded his request.

"Seriously?" Alex whispered as soon as the slinky vampire left the corridor. "You're trusting _that_? She would have turned Hal in!"

"And you've never had your mind changed?" Richard asked and Alex held his challenging gaze. "When Henry ruled London, there was a reason he chose her as consort."

"Beside the obvious?" Alex scoffed.

"Rosanna Bellante certainly has her charms," Richard smiled. "She was a bet, you see. Henry only pursued her because she had caught my fancy. He really has been an utter bastard at times," Richard laughed as he casually leaned against the wall. "They were an item for several years. Yet, he never could _really_ get to her. Lord knows he tried! She was the perfect counterpoint to credulous Nick Cutler, at the time. It didn't matter what Henry did, who he killed or who he fucked. Rosanna was utterly unflappable. Until Henry died, that is. That's what finally did it. She was pretty broken up. Then finding out he had actually abandoned her after all this time? You really can't blame her for being a _tit_ upset."

Alex's stomach dropped. As much as she loathed Rosanna, Alex had at least assumed Hal had been "with" her before he left with Leo. Rationally, Alex knew that Hal had been with loads of people. She was dead, so didn't really need to be concerned about her health. But the undercurrent of Richard's words revealed another piece of who Hal had been before he went clean. The violent and self-serving man she currently had tied to a chair inside a locked cell.

"I still don't trust her," was all Alex eventually said.

"Nor do I," Richard agreed candidly. "Nor will I. But we need her. At least, for now. And who knows - maybe I'll eventually win Henry's bet after all."

"What was the bet?"

"To see who could win her favour. I didn't stand a chance." Richard looked to the ceiling in mock woe. "Alas, Henry had no intention of keeping her, and I think Rosanna knew it. Which is why his loss left so much unfinished for her. They had been fighting. She had left that night with young Steven very publicly and loudly. It had been a stunner of a party of ours for the full moon - right before New Year's, it was." Richard's eyes took a far off quality in remembrance, then he shook his head. "For a time there were rumours that she killed him, but no one could prove it."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I've grown fond of you Miss Millar. Are you certain you know what you're doing?"

"I'm sure," she answered without hesitation.

Richard glanced to the locked door. "He's listening to us, you know."

"I know. So?"

"I haven't exactly been privy - but this is how he does it? Forced restraint? How long will it take?"

"Dunno. Last time was a few weeks but that was... erm," she stalled. "He'd had a lot less. Why?"

"In Rook's office this morning I had to catch myself. I _pretended_ his crucifix still bothered me, but my suspicion is that he left it out as a test. Smart, that one. Going forth without Henry's counsel on this is… I am feeling a bit," he paused, seeking the right word. "Marooned."

"You can't feel him, can you?" Alex asked, then whispered, "Felipe?"

Richard looked away, pensive. "No. I feel mostly the same, honestly. Just… stronger. It makes me wonder about Henry."

"In what way?"

"If it is because of his power as an Old One that he can do this - go off blood with more success than any who have ever attempted."

"Think you might give it a go?" Alex was genuinely curious.

"Me? Gods no," he scoffed. "But then again, my appetite has grown a touch more civilised in my old age."  
  
"Why is that, you think? Why does Hal have to be so extreme?"

Richard shrugged. "Why do some people become alcoholics? Vampirism hits some of us harder than others."

"Because Hal is an addict, you mean."

"Power. Gambling. Blood. He ran the gambit of just about everything to be addicted to. And then, one day he just walked away from all of it. One of his cycles, he calls them. But this time, I don't know. I'm not sure it's a cycle anymore."

"That's the hope," Alex echoed, her eyes darting to the locked door. "Can I ask you a personal question?" Alex braved, and he merely raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe in love, Mr. Turner?"

Richard blinked his surprise, then gave a hearty guffaw. "Me? Oh, did I ever! I believed clear until I didn't believe in anything anymore. It becomes more difficult for us weathered types, I fear."

"You mean, it's harder to fall for someone after there have been so many?" Alex said, thinking again about who Hal had been with Rosanna.  
  
"No - not at all. That part's easy. Love is what's difficult. To truly love, one has to forgive. But to forgive ourselves? That becomes much harder as time wears on."

"So, you think all this is futile?"

Richard glanced to the locked door and shook his head slowly. "I've been thinking a lot on redemption," Richard continued. "Henry certainly seems to try. Even when he falls short, he finds a way to carry on. And he's been rather fierce about you, if you haven't noticed." Richard gave her a dimpled smile. "But… I wonder. Do you think Felipe had been capable of such change?"

Alex pursed her lips. By his very asking, her impression of Richard Turner lifted a little. He hadn't known exactly what his quest would cost until in the moment yesterday. Richard had chosen to become an Old One anyways, yet his doubt was evident. "Allison was pretty shook up over it," she admitted. "We spent a fair bit of time talking it through this morning. And I just keep coming back to Hal. He didn't seem to think Felipe could change."

"There are many who would have said the same of Henry last century," Richard countered. "Felipe pleaded to change."

"He pleaded, but," Alex paused and shook her head. "I don't think he really wanted to stop. I almost destroyed him myself, remember?"

"Something Henry saved you from, yes. I understand now why he protected you so feverently. Now that I know what it takes, I'm not certain there was any other candidate..." Richard let the thought trail. "I do feel a touch feral though. Perhaps it's a bit of the Lobisomem coming through," Richard pondered with a smile. "Henry had some rather entrenched history with Felipe, so I trusted his judgement."

"Do you know what had happened back then?"

"With the Lobisomem? Yes, though he doesn't speak of it often. We had been at war. The vampires had been on a mission to annihilate every last werewolf. For better or worse, Henry convinced Mr. Snow to allow some to remain. And here we all are. Such is the way of time," he said with a shrug, then leveled her with a deep gaze.

"So I've gathered. But what about Felipe?"

Richard glanced at the door, then shook his head. "Henry did what he always does. He did what had to be done. He charmed and moulded the young Felipe, promising immortality - which is a nearly a sure-fire way to create a ghost - then murdered him. He kept his promise by teaching the ghost possession in exchange for reports of the Lobisomem."

"Can any ghost learn how?"

"Yes," Richard answered reluctantly. "But I'd caution that you don't. Forcing your soul onto another is apparently a very nasty business. They typically end up shrieking mad. Poltergeisting and causing witch hunts and the like."

Alex swallowed, recalling the gaelstorm of that brief, eternal moment she had overtaken Hal. With Richard's words, she recognised what she had done. To stop Hal from fleeing into carnage, she did what she had to. She had jumped into him. She could see how someone with less history would be much easier to overcome. She also had a taste of the allure. For a ghost without Hangori abilities, it would be a direct pathway to touch, sensation, food and aliveness.

Through her silence, Richard was regarding her. "You are a brave lass, Alex Millar. To even attempt to conquer all that history."

It was almost as if he could read her thoughts, but then Alex realised he was merely returning the conversation to the present. "Says the man sponsoring Miss Thing," Alex scoffed good naturedly, breaking the serious mood. "So, I gotta ask. What is it with you and poisons? You're a 'weathered' vampire - what do you need help for?"

Richard laughed throatily. "Oh, come now. Not all of us are natural born killers! To be ruthless amongst sharks? It helps to have a hobby or two."

"A hobby?" Alex chuckled.

"To pass the time," Richard shrugged. "To make prey more docile. Enemies less athletic, you know. Henry was certainly amused by it when we met."

"Huh." Alex pondered with a smile. By her own reaction she recognised that she was developing a fondness for Richard Turner. "And Rembrandt, huh? You actually knew him?" she asked and Richard just shook his head with a wry smile.

"I met him in my youth. The painting was commissioned by a family friend as a gift," he shrugged. "Some say he discovered Rembrandt. Really, he just brought the Court's attention to a good artist. I haven't seen that painting in centuries. I thought it was lost, honestly."

"Rook hid it away again, didn't he?"

"As is for the best, I suppose. Henry was always after me about my collection. He said it would bring us trouble someday. I never could get him or any of the Old Ones to sit for that matter. Quite superstitious about their images being captured, the lot of them." Richard winked.

"He even told me that he wished you'd destroy them. I dunno though. I see the risk, but they're kind of cool."

"It has always been my own private Archive. Perhaps I should donate them here. Though I'd loathe to see them just catalogued away." Richard paused thoughtfully. "It is probably for the best that Henry is disappearing for awhile," he stated solemnly, returning the conversation to serious.

"Sure, but Hetty said it, right? There aren't a lot of folks left who know what Hal looks like. Not even a portrait," Alex smirked.

"Still, I'd be wary at the house if I were you. You'll need to be cautious of your comings and goings for some time."

"That at least I can do," Alex said with a nod.

"Well, please do get in touch if there's anything you require," Richard said warmly. "I am at your service." He straightened his posture, brushed off his sleeve then gave her a small salute before taking his leave.

Alex shook her head and watched him turn the corner. The staccato of his footsteps ascended the stairs, then faintly from above she could hear Rosanna chiding him for taking so long.

Alex smiled to herself and wished Richard Turner luck. He was going to need it.

She resumed her lean next to Hal's door and settled in for a long night of contemplating the revelations of the past few days. Where the future might lead them all was yet to be known, but Alex felt ready. Their household was no longer an enclave against the world, but a part of it. Each in their own way, they had become its guardians. To live apart from humanity had been one way to guard it, but to stand with humanity and still protect it? They had each been tested and proven worthy. By standing together - Hal, Tom, Allison, herself, the Department, Richard and even Rosanna - the secrets of the supernatural world had been kept.


	44. In Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._
> 
> _Happy recruitment day, Hal. I'm gifting you a happier ending than where we last left off. And for all you readers still reading out there, reviews are the currency of this so-called society. I'd love to hear from you!_

Time passed.

Oscillations of the ventilation served as his clock, the whirr and click of air moving through an otherwise concrete tomb. Regular cycles of burnt coffee, the scent sickeningly thick, wafted in from the staff kitchen a floor above. The faint but incessant humming of Mike Nave was a grating accompaniment. The time passed in shift changes of activity and quiet, quiet and activity. Hal wished that he could lose count of the days. Irritably, he could not.

Dominic Rook visited with unfailing regularity. On good days, Hal would simply stare back in silence. Most days however, he would shout and struggle endlessly until Rook put down his pen, closed his notebook and left. But unlike Tom and Alex the last time he had gone through this, Rook remained completely unperturbed. The human's scent would linger for hours after in the cloistered room, and Hal would both curse and hail his bonds.

Time passed.

The hours in between were whittled away by the ticking of hallucinations that withdrawal always brings - the ghosts of his many pasts. Even Mr. Snow came to call, dressed as he had been in Brazil, in the twenties. He would sit painfully polite, but fix Hal with a stare of extreme disappointment. Sometimes he taunted Hal quietly, with small sips from a crystal chalice, dark with blood. Other times, Snow came to stand over him with less than quiet intentions, until the inescapable aggression tore into a scream. Hal's punishment burned a brand through his sternum and sat with a yearning in his gut.

Craving turned to hunger. Hunger shifted into pain. Pain became visions intertwined with dream and memory. But the most repetitive of all, was Alex. Always Alex.

The first time she approached him slowly, eyes filled with wariness. He had been so intently focused on trying to decipher the emotion in those eyes, that he neglected to detect the syringe in her hand until it was embedded in his thigh.

He shouted in pain and surprise and she jerked the needle free, and backed away with her hands up. "Sorry!"

When he came to, it was to a disorienting repetition of Alex backing away again. But he felt nothing. Nor could he keep what little consciousness he had fought for.

Awakening to her presence in the room once more, he struggled to protest. "Stop. Please," he uttered before even opening his eyes.

"What's that?" She asked even as he felt her pull the dosage free.

"You think I haven't tried this?" He lolled the words, fighting the heaviness of the opiate. "I have to go _through_ it, Alex. Not around."

She looked down to the syringe in her hand, then back at him. "I dunno. Rook's got some really good stuff." His vision of her was blurring. Hal just hoped she'd listen. She seemed to cock her head. "What, really?"

"Really," he managed to answer before fading into the drug's embrace.

When he came to again, he was alone. And terribly thirsty. And the hours and days ticked by.

At the apex of his hunger she opened the door again, her figure a silhouette against the unwavering florescent light in the hall. She carried a silk handkerchief that flashed brightly against her black leather. At first he thought it was so she could operate the door with it. He was mistaken.

"Hiya," she greeted with a smile. "Mr. Shouty takin' a break now?"

Hal's parched throat made his words sound hoarse. "It won't last."

"Oh, don't I know it. Do you trust me?" She had that mischievous gleam in her eye setting his response to wary.

"To release me? No," he huffed. "Infuriatingly, you've proven that. But otherwise? Yes, I trust you. Why?"

She smiled and walked towards his chair, then behind him. "Alex," he started to protest her proximity, but suddenly, the handkerchief was in his mouth. He felt her warmth brush against his shoulder as she secured the gag. The physical response of pressure against his fangs awakened immediately with that slight contact. He struggled to pull away, but given that he was already lashed to a chair, there was little he could do.

"Shh," she shushed as she tightened the knot. There was the sound of a pull of tape, and a rip. Alex came around, still smiling despite his distress. Leaning in seductively close, she stuck a large piece of tape over the gag of silk.

"There. Harmless," she stated, holding his gaze. Her face hovered mere inches from his as she stared at him calculating. He shook his head, trying to ward off whatever notion she had come to. His fangs had already pushed through the delicate silk.

Ignoring the warning in his eyes, Alex leaned closer and her legs pressed against his knees. With overt deliberation, she clasped his bound wrists. The touch instantly incited her scent and the darkened room lept into sharpened clarity. Hal knew his eyes had gone black.

"Safe as houses," she whispered, dropping her forehead to his. Despite his increased strain against his bonds, she leaned her weight between his knees.

Hal's every fibre of being yearned into her. The pain! The exquisite torture of her scent, her body, her ghostly heart rapidly beating beyond her bravado. He pressed his nose to her neck and breathed deeply in an embrace of the bloodlust. All the while his jaw was working against her clever gag. Alex took a shaky breath but did not let go or pull away. Instead, she seemed to yearn into him as much as he was her. Her grip tightened against his wrists.

Just when he thought he would implode from the _wanting_ of her, she disappeared. The door to his confinement slammed shut, taking the sliver of light with it.

Her abrupt absence a shock, Hal was left torridly lustful. If it wasn't for the fact that he was still gagged, he would have believed it was all was a dream.

Hours later, she returned. Again, she incited him to manifest. No matter how he tried to fight his nature, every time she left him near-mad. Every time, she stayed longer than the previous.

Hal knew what she was doing. Alex was trying to _run_ him through the withdrawals.

He tried not to think about how exquisitely perfect Alex had tasted. Her flesh in his teeth and blood coursing down his throat. But the more he tried to halt the thought, the more the moment was on endless repeat.

After several days of this, she must have decided he was improving for she removed the gag. He bellowed with the pull of tape and screamed at her to leave, to stop this torture.

Her disappointment was a thousand times worse than Snow's.

Alex wasn't deterred though. He'd awaken to her sitting across from him. Or leaning in the doorway. She kept him up to date with current affairs. She read his favorite books aloud, her accent a lilting and lyrical change to the well known words. No matter how many times he begged her to leave, she would not.

He began to doubt whether she was even really there, or if Alex had become merely another figmental vision living inside his head. His fantasies comprised over and over of seducing her into releasing him. Sometimes heartfelt, sometimes forceful, but it always ended the same. He would sink his teeth into her and the light would flare and he'd drain her away into darkness.

Sometimes, he wanted to skip forward. To turn ahead to the chapter in their story when he knew he would no longer feel that way.

Sometimes, he wanted to rip the false smile from her face.

Sometimes, he still thought that he should distance himself after this - to leave and never see Alex Millar again. Except he knew she would always find him. And she would never give up. Her stubbornness was a solace. Alex had seen his darkness first hand and still she _refused_ to give up.

If her temper flared, as it often did - he knew _just_ how to goad her - she wouldn't grace him with her anger or an argument. She would simply disappear. Hal would be at once triumphant, and painfully remorseful about her absence in the room.

Tom was another matter. Just as with Rook, the lingering scent informed Hal of which visits were real. As it did once before, his mate's increased and unwavering cheerfulness wore on him.

Eventually, Hal retreated from all of these constant irritations into a steadfast silence. In the solitude, time passed.

Withdrawals were where the past collided with the present. At first in yearning remembrance of times of excess, so starkly contrasted to now which would ultimately oscillate to remorse. Every detail sat with him brutally clear; not merely just names and faces, but whether that face held terror or incomprehension, and even down to the garments they wore. There was a time he believed he needed keepsakes of these deeds. It was redundant. Each and every single one lived, and died in him. _All over again_.

And the centuries passed.

* * *

"You sure about this?" Tom asked, his eyebrows mashed together with concern. He glanced dubiously at the items Alex carried, hugged close to her chest. "You really think it's time and all?"

Alex quickly nodded. This time, she was certain . "I'll drug him, and then you'll help move him."

"Long as he doesn't try for your throat again, I'll call that improved."

* * *

This time, Hal knew she was real. He could feel her true presence in the room in a way his hallucinations couldn't replicate. Alex stood silhouetted in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame. All long-legged, silk-and-leather-creaking inch of her looking at him as if he were a problem she was about to solve. She met his eyes with a shy hello of a smile, then lifted her arm, taking aim. His protest came out weak - it had been some time since he had tried to speak. She shot him square in the chest with a tranquiliser dart, then shrugged at his surprise as if in apology. "Goodnight, Hal," she said as his limbs grew heavy. Her silhouette burned brand-like in his vision until he succumbed to the inevitable blackness.

When he awoke, he was cold. And completely disoriented. Gone was the view of the door with every memorised rivet. It was replaced by smooth, grey cement. For the first time in a month, he was lying down. He was on the hospital trolley. The weight at his ankle said he was shackled. But, he had been freed from the chair. He felt… damp. She had doused him. Changed his clothing. Light cotton trousers and shirt in Departmental grey.

Hal set his head back down on the pillow. Alex _had_ been real this time. She had drugged him. She'd had him moved. _Foolish girl_.

Hal sat up. He was shackled to the wall by a thick cable. The trolley was also locked to the wall. There was just enough give that he could stand. Stretch. His feet were bare. At the end of the trolley, a bottle of water was sat upon a neatly folded woolen blanket. His hands were free, the wrists still reddened and healing. Hal ran his hands through his damp hair, feeling the stiffness in his shoulders.

Near the trolley, a small section of the iron plate border had been removed from the wall. The open barrier meant that Alex could rent-a-ghost in without compromising the door, and it was behind where he had been confined to the chair. No longer certain of what had been memory, and what had been dream, Hal tested the integrity of his new restraint.

The give wasn't much. Not unless he wished to severely harm the integrity of his foot. Which he could, but wouldn't. She must have known he wouldn't. Thus confined, he would not be able to reach the door, even if he stretched across the floor. Humane movement, that was all. He was still bound. Still captive.

Hal breathed a sigh of relief and set his bare feet on the cold concrete. Shakily, he stood.

Within a modicum of safety, she was testing him. His feeling on the matter was still entirely conflicted. He hoped she wouldn't teleport in too soon. At the same time, she couldn't appear soon enough.

* * *

Hal's beard had filled out to soften the gaunt hollows of his face, and his hair had grown unruly. Alex had offered, but he still wouldn't let her get close enough to shave him. And he wasn't allowed a razor on his own. Or much of anything really.

He had started speaking to her again, which was a marked improvement, but his words were terse and without emotion. It was as if he wasn't really in the room and Alex missed him dearly. Hal had gone hollow - a shell of himself even more than the first time she had witnessed this. Alex almost preferred the tirades. At least then she knew his mind.

In recollection of how they had connected after his last detox, she renewed what she had done then to get through to him. Even though it felt a little too classic-lovestruck-girl for her, she shared her music with him. Alex made Hal a playlist.

She had stolen an old Mp3 player from her house in Glasgow, set the playlist, and left it for him to find when he awoke. It was filled with songs that made her think of him, and all the songs she thought he needed - all of life and beauty, heart and hope.

Hal didn't say anything about it. Not thanks, nor criticism. But two days later, he asked her to write down a list of songs as varied and eclectic as he was.

"Here you go," she offered back the player filled with his requests after scouring the internet and the British library for all the downloads. Some of the tracks had not been easy to find. But Hal shook his head.

"For you," was all he said, then resumed his hundredth count of press-ups.

She listened to his music alone in the attic that night. Each selection was full of swelling sadness, and so perfectly him. From classical orchestrations, to sultry jazz and Motown and blues, Hal's music encompassed a full range of heartbreak, and love. She had been so strong over the past few weeks, carrying optimism that they could eventually get back to where they had been before the full moon. For the first time since she had locked him down, Alex let her bravado fall.

The truth of everything finally hit her. It wasn't that Hal had changed. It was that the scales had tipped. Enough truth had been laid bare between them that his mask had dropped. Hal had stopped playing pretend. She cried out her anguish for all they had lost, and all they had to rebuild. But also, even through her sadness, she felt closer to him than she had in a month.

The next day, she left more of her music with him. He looked at the player, then met her eyes.

"Alex, do you want to help me? Really help?"

"Well, yeah, of course."

"Then find me something to bloody do. For the love of Christ!"

She considered his request while he caught his breath from the outburst. "Well," she pondered. "You speak French, am I right?"

Hal furrowed his brow, then calming, shrugged. "Oui."

"You could teach me," she offered.

And so together, they built a routine. In the mornings he would complete his full regime no less than four times. No matter how long it took. Afterwards, they would practise _en francais_ , his teaching style rigid, but effective. She was a fast learner.

In the evenings, Alex invented activities by bringing a new task or game to keep his hands and mind occupied. A spool of copper wire became a pile of copper pins one day, and an orderly line of spirals the next. She brought kite strings beyond knotted that he would spend hours untangling. A jumbo box of colored paper clips that transformed into legions of rainbow lines along the wall. A crocheted afghan to yarn and yarn to a knotted chain. These meditative games along with a steady supply of crosswords and books seemed to help.

Tom and Allison took trips to the British Heart Foundation and brought back odd assortments of silverware to polish or puzzles. Once, Tom splurged on a whole tin of legos. Those lasted a full two days before the explosive tirade. Occasionally, Hal would threaten whomever, anyone near, with whatever he had, but always, Alex could remove it from him in an instant. Like a small child, his moods were fickle and spontaneous. He always apologised.

But he was coming back. Slowly, patiently she would catch little glimmers in their brief conversations those first weeks. Until finally, he asked for his dominos back. But he refused to be freed.

Outside of her time practising with Hal, Alex trained with Maggie Dan. She had become friends with Maggie, and tried not to think about how the ghost was readying her to take her place in the Department when she finally passed on. It was bound to happen someday though, Alex theorised.

The old ghost was teaching her everything she knew. Not just how to assist the Department's cause, but also how to teleport more places than Alex herself, or even Hal had been. Maggie remarked on more than one occasion just how much of a natural Alex more Alex expanded her telepathic abilities, the easier it all became. Alex learned how to sip at memory. Similar to how she had used Hal's memories to teleport, but in a way where she wouldn't have to take him with her. It was an extremely simple solution to what had caused them trouble. Alex could tug out a sense of place from just about anyone, then travel there herself.

One evening she asked Hal if she could "taste" a few new places from him, much to his dismay. "But you've been to all sorts of exotic places. You've been Tibet and Turkey."

"And I've never wanted to kill people more than in the Grand Bazaar," he countered. "All the shouting, all the cheap trinkets. It's akin to an overheated stampede. Not my thing."

She laughed. "Ever been to Australia? Or America?" Alex asked, idylly.

"Yes and yes."

"Jeez. You really have been everywhere. I guess the better question would be where haven't you been?" Her question was met with a long pause while Hal thought it over. "Um... wow. You really shouldn't have to think about it that long."

"I've been to countries that do not exist any longer. It gets a little difficult to keep track of. But... there are many areas of the far East I've never been to. That was Hetty's territory. Bissau and other regions of west Africa… Canada. Several of the island nations. Hawaii."

"What?" Alex perked up. "Never Hawaii? Which isn't a country any longer, by the way."

"I'm aware of that. But no. There never was a reason."

"And we live at Honolulu Heights! Well then, I know what I want for Christmas. We should _totally_ go to Hawaii."

"Not Singapore?" He teased her with a rare smile. Neither of them spoke of the fact that he was still shackled to a wall, and Christmas was less than a week away.

Nor did Christmas really come to Honolulu Heights. Tom tried. He strung up paper garland and asked his friend home. But Hal still refused to be freed. Allison ended up taking Tom to her family holiday which he was incredibly nervous about, but Alex assured him he'd be fine. "Just be ye darling self!"

The house was impossibly lonely once they'd gone, so Alex popped home to eavesdrop on her own family. In typical Yule Eve tradition, her house was filled with extended family, all talking at once. Alex stood next to the window outside and out of sight for hours, listening to what everyone had been up to. Ryan had caught up his marks in school and Gus was even seeing a girl. Her youngest brother had taken up music theory with her old keyboard. He wanted to join a band. Her Da was working too much, as always, but he seemed well. He'd cut back his drinking and had even shed a few. Alex's portrait still sat center of the mantle, next to her mum's. She was at first happy to see her family, but deeply saddened too.

Earlier in the month she had stolen Hal's Department-issued credit card and ordered each of them a gift, but then had returned it all. As much as she wanted to, she just couldn't be there for them in that way. Announcing herself as a ghost - visibility or no - would only hurt them more. So with nowhere else to go, Alex came back to the Archive.

The place wasn't as silent as it nearly always was these days. Instead, a soft crooning of Christmas music could be heard coming from Rook's wing. When she rent-a-ghosted to the open doorway, it was to the scene of Rook, Nave & Maggie playing cards. An open bottle of Lagavulin sat on the table between Dominic Rook and Mike Nave. Neither of them had family to go to apparently.

"Ah! We've summoned the visible ghost!" Nave said jovially, his cheeks ruddy from the liquor. "Scotch for a Scot? Join us, Millar?"

"Finally hitting the good stuff there Mike?" she quipped as she came into the room.

"Only on special occasions. And for a lass as sweet as you I'll even have another!" He declared and raised his glass.

"Cheers," Rook said then tipped back his own glass. As he set down the empty tumbler, he also laid down his hand. "Royal Flush."

"Maggie, you better not be slipping him cards," Nave scowled.

Maggie scrawled a quick reply on the whiteboard at her side, "Hey now, I'm playing too!" Maggie smiled warmly and pulled out a chair for Alex. "Happy Christmas, girlie. Take a night off."

On New Year's Eve, when it had been exactly sixty-one days since Hal had drank blood, Tom and Allison did something Alex never expected. They brought Hal a cake. Candles and all. As many glowing little sticks of wax as could physically fit. The thing was actually sagging under the amount of candles. It looked completely ridiculous.

"If you sing, I _will_ kill you," Hal threatened, giving the cake a very dubious stare and setting down his book.

Tom just laughed. "I thought you needed one. One that weren't anything to do with the vampire. You know when you were turned, but that's no birthday."

Hal furrowed his brow, serious despite the ridiculous cake. "It's been celebrated quite extravagantly from time to time."

Tom paused to look down to the extravagantly ridiculous birthday cake he was holding, but Allison gave him a nudge. He cleared his throat, and started into a rehearsed debate.

"I know that's the count you keep. But what about _our_ Hal? What about me best mate? I wanted to give you a birthday. Alex done said when you left with Leo was near New Years. Besides, the same time that history keeps count seemed like as good a time as any."

"And you'll always get fireworks," Alex added, enjoying Tom's line of thought.

"Traditionally, that is for Chinese New Year. The western world merely adopted it," Allison clarified.

"Right," Tom nodded. "And we're adopting this as your birthday. You won't change me mind, Hal. Now blow these out before we set Rook's nice Archive on fire. And then you're coming home."

"Home." Hal stated, skeptically eyeing the flaming cake.

"The house needs you," Alex added to the debate. "Tom is trying to build a chicken coop in the back garden."

"Well," he paused then met her eyes. "At least that's more realistic than a swimming pool."

* * *

Rook tested him before he left, casually coming in to bid farewell while Hal was tying his laces.

Casually, with a small, fresh papercut.

Hal noticed of course, but then blatantly ignored it. The craving was palatable as it always would be, but so was the craving for home and his own bed. And a hot bath.

"You are welcome to return, if ever you find the need," Rook said carefully after his obvious deliberation on whether Hal had passed his test. Hal mentally applauded Rook's fortitude that he had risked himself with the trial.

"I cannot say that I'm fond of the offer, necessarily. But thank you." Hal met the blonde man's scrutinous gaze. "Let us hope the need does not arise again."

Catching the undertone to his words, Dominic Rook merely stepped aside from the door, allowing him to take his leave. Alex and Tom were waiting in the corridor.

The bones of the old Bed and Breakfast creaked familiar, and the sounds of the neighborhood faintly carried from beyond the brick. Hal sank deeper into the tub, letting the water soothe and wash away the scent of the Archive. Of concrete and pain.

He opened his eyes to the sight of Alex watching him. She blushed, then made to disappear again. "Alex," he said, causing her to stay. His gaze softened as he allowed himself to look at her. And she stared back.

"Just checking on ye. No drownin, now," she teased with a bare smile.

" _Drowning is not so pitiful as the attempt to rise_ ," he muttered, recalling the snippet of an Emily Dickinson poem. Alex just merely arched an eyebrow. "Nevermind," he said.

"It's a wee soon to be quoting poetry at me," she said, her smile rising. "You haven't even cleaned the kitchen yet. Though, the bath looks loads better."

"I merely sorted the linens. And cleaned the tub. And the sink," he admitted.

Her smile lit up her eyes. "Well, yeah. Of course you did."

He just shook his head. Then the corner of his mouth raised in the barest smile. "It is… nice to hear sounds again," he said. At her befuddled expression, he elaborated. "Cars. And the train. And, across the street, they're having a row again. Life," he shrugged. "Humanity. It always changes, and yet it never does."

"No more forced air," she agreed, even as she worried at the ring on her forefinger with her thumb. All the awkwardness she was trying to avoid came out clearly. "Hal, how are you really?"

"Do you really wish to know?" He asked in turn.

Alex bit her lip but nodded. "Yeah, I do."

He glanced away toward the window as he answered. "I want to drink down the bar and kill the neighbors," he admitted, then looked back to her. "But I won't."

She didn't appear surprised, just saddened. "How long will it be like this?"

"It was always like this. I just used to be better at hiding it from you."

"Oh," she said, then let the silence span between them. Her eyes glanced to his torso, and she quickly cleared her throat. "You need naught?"

He followed her glance, then met her eyes. "No more guard service?"

Alex shrugged. "Nah. It's just something I've gotten better at it. I'll be right upstairs, if'n you need."

He took a deep breath, then gave a nod. "Probably best."

"We've still got a long way back, don't we?" Lingering in the doorway, she finally voiced the question that he knew had plagued her for months. Hal almost answered. Instead, he simply nodded.

"Goodnight, Hal," she said simply before disappearing again.

"Goodnight, Alex," he answered, but she was already gone.

* * *

Alex tiptoed down the stairs - ghosting over the squeaky steps - then she unlatched Hal's door and stealthily peeked in.

Hal was lying on his back with an expanse of empty bed stretched around him. She couldn't tell if he was asleep or not. Quietly, she entered the room, reminded of the time when he was healing from Nave's gunshot. Sneaking in to check on him…

Alex stood next to the bed, just aching to join him, but didn't. He was clean shaven and Alex wondered how long that had taken him. His body seemed relaxed, resting. His face, expressionless. Even when his eyes opened to stare back at her.

Alex was caught silent, not knowing what to say, not knowing where to start. Especially when he moved over to his side of the bed while holding her gaze.

Alex hesitated, but then took the invitation. She plopped down on top of the covers, but was careful not to touch him. Hal turned his attention to the mysteries of the ceiling.

"It's raining," was all he eventually said. She didn't know how to respond to that, so just sat silently, unsure of what he wanted. Restlessly, Hal turned on his side, returning his gaze to her face.

"Is it hard to be back?" she asked after a moment passed without him saying anything, and he shook his head.

"No. It's good to be back," he said softly. "Sleep won't find me tonight though."

"Ah. You got accustomed to all that quiet," she mocked with a smile.

"No, it's you," he said, then elaborated at her confusion. "The barrier in the Archive subdued it. I can feel you."

"Oh," she said and sat up a bit, ensuring she still wasn't touching him.

"It will be okay. I'm just," he trailed, searching for words. "Thinking about you. And about Hangori."

"I've been curious," she broached, emboldened by his candidness. "When you joined with Snow, who was your ghost? What was their story?"

In these moments she had learned that he would answer such questions. He would always answer. He cleared his throat, caught off guard a little, but remembering . "A man," he replied. "He had been killed by the vampire who abducted and recruited his wife. Death didn't part them though. The ghost remained until eventually, he fought off the vampire. Which is how they caught Snow's attention."

"Is it always like that? Lovers?"

"No," Hal shook his head. "More often they don't know."

"Like how Felipe didn't know. And I didn't know, at first," she ruminated, relaxing against the pillow despite the thread of their conversation. "How _did_ you know?"

"When I took your hand at the club, you felt different than a normal ghost. Solid. Not as much as you do now," he said. "But enough to give me pause. I didn't really believe it until later."

"So, this thing between us," Alex mused. "It wouldn't have happened if Cutler hadn't killed me." She could tell by the look in Hal's eyes that he'd had the thought already, but he glanced away. "To have found love in such a way," she smiled. "Totally assed-backwards. Figures."

He sighed, but didn't argue. They regarded each other for a moment longer and Alex could feel what he meant. All evening she'd had this hyper-awareness of him and thought it had been purely emotional. But she could feel the draw between them. The urge to simply reach out and hug him was strong. So she tried to squash it by speaking aloud another musing thought.

"Do you regret it? Killing Cutler's wife?"

Hal furrowed his brow, and a brief darkness passed through his eyes. Then he looked at her intensely. He didn't have to answer, and Alex regretted asking. She knew it was complicated. Even if he regretted the deed that set so much else in motion - like dominos to fall - it still led to this moment, here, now.

Hal considered her for a length of time, then took a steadying breath to steel his control. For a moment, she thought that he would simply tell her goodnight again with the implication that she should leave. But his eyes were soft when he uncurled his hand, beckoning.

After two months of keeping their distance, Hal was inviting her to test it. Gingerly, as if the contact would shock, Alex brushed her fingertip against his. Magnetic and strong, the soft touch tugged at the bond between them. Closing his eyes with a small sigh, Hal slid his fingers between hers.

And there it still was. The pull through her core. Their electric spark. She clasped his hand tightly and her pulse beat softly in the joined space between them. Alex settled against the pillows and Hal's hazel eyes sought her own. It was a small step - both simultaneously simple and dangerously complex. He held her hand and didn't let go.

Together, they listened to the rain come down.


	45. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground._
> 
>  
> 
> _Here we are, at the end of this epic journey. Thank you for coming along with me. Now you've got one last chance to bring me joy. Reviews are the love and "currency of this so-called society."_

* * *

If she had been honest with herself before she died, she would have admitted that she didn't have a plan. Not a real one. See her brothers through school, then go back herself had been the basic premise. But she'd had dreams of travel. Of going to Paris and being swept off her feet by a dashing Frenchman and having a brood of darling French children.

You can't always get what you want.

"Paris isn't as romantic as you think it is," Hal had told her once.

"And why's that?"

"It's filthy. Dirtiest city I've ever been to. And it's crowded. With ghosts."

"But that was last century, " she winked, but then pondered for a moment. "Are there any places out there you _do_ want to go to again?"

Hal shrugged.

"Come on - not one?"

"I've heard the Claddagh hasn't much changed. Though, they have a swan problem now."

"What? Where do they have a swan problem?"

"Small sector of Galway. Ireland."

"Alright then. Show me. I love swans. They mate for life, you know." She winked.

Years into the future though, she will be sitting across from Hal in a cafe in Paris. He'll be reading the newspaper and muttering about some diplomat and "why couldn't they ever grasp the simple theories of economics? These matters are not difficult, truly -" and Alex will flirt with the waiter when he takes their order, because she can. She'll be wearing a simple tee shirt and jeans, because she can. She will stare out across Rue le Pic to the lively street market, and reflect on the girl who died. Killed by a vampire. It was only after death that she started living. After having travelled to every continent, and three dozen countries, that day they will be heading back home to Barry, to babysit little Evie Anne while her parents went "howling."

Tom and Allison were married in a woodland ceremony surrounded by friends and family. They had secretly already been with child, but Hal and Alex knew. Alex loved that little girl with all her heart and often filled in for her busy parents. Hal superstitiously believed the child would grow up to rid the world of vampires, but Tom just laughed at him. Nonetheless, Hal was cautious and protective. Their household had truly become a family, even if Hal had put his foot down about the labrador Tom wanted.

Hal and Alex had a more private affair, when he renewed his promise to her a year to the day. "Till Death Do Us Part" was a bit awkward for two people who technically had already died, but it didn't change how they felt. The strength of love between them had only grown with Hal's recovery, and Alex counted every day as the blessing it was.

Of course there were rough spots. Like that terrible accident in Rome with the bicyclist. They had been a block away, and hadn't witnessed it, but the blood on the breeze had been enough for Hal to go perfectly still and whisper, "Home, please." He'd had her tie him down for a week after, just to be sure.

His bloodlust would rise sometimes, like an impassable and irrational crevasse between them that could not be debated. But he was always honest about it. Hiding it could cost lives, so he always told her. His constant vigilance was the price he paid to live somewhat normally on the good days. On bad days, they'd stay in. She introduced him to her favourite films, and he, his favourite novels.

They'd become known as the Millers on the few supernatural encounters they had. She would clasp Hal's hand and pretend to be a vampire as well, flexing her powers of persuasion lest her visibility raise too many questions. There was always the chance that Alex would run into someone she had known before her death, but she argued the chance was slim. Except for occasional visits to the Hebrides, they steered clear of Scotland. If it happened, she would have to "persuade" someone she knew, which Maggie had cautioned could prove difficult.

Rook was in touch often, seeking Hal's counsel or Alex's assistance. Sometimes, strange werewolves would show up at their door, feral eyed and seeking "McNair." Tom was good with them.

Richard and Rosanna kept their distance, though Alex knew both Hal and Rook were in communication with them. Through Richard's collaboration with the Department, a "medical sanguine" awareness programme and network of blood donors was in the early stages of implementation. Spike hadn't been the only vampire who wanted to subsist without killing.

Hal kept a correspondence with London under several aliases but thus far, no one had come looking for him. Rosanna's word had been believed and Henry Yorke was "proper dead" once more.

Alex feared that someday, Hal would leave. That he would get up in the middle of the night and never return. She was frightened that someday love wouldn't be enough and he would finish what he had started all those years ago in the woods.

She could feel the lure he had to people. Sometimes she could see it in him so clearly - the quiet way he would watch people, then abruptly turn his attention elsewhere. The vampire was barely contained below the surface - like a tiger pacing the confines of his cage - ever watchful for the chance to strike, to spring free. She could feel the chains of blood-yearning shake through him, his nightmares waking him. Often he would get up and travel from their bed wordlessly to complete a round of press-ups or dominos. The really bad ones would keep him away for hours.

Every time he returned to her in the night she would pull him as close as she could. Pressing herself into him, she would try to give back the strength he was lending her. Because every time he returned, it was a silent sigh of relief. Alex knew that the next time, he may not.

It was as simple, and as complex as that one daily choice - to choose love and each other. And it always would be.

Every day that they nestled into sleep was a blessing. One more day day bested. One more won. Their twining of a shared anchor kept them both grounded, but it was more than that. Sometimes he would catch a subtle look from her and smile, understanding. They had been through the darkness together and returned. To be known and loved was a blessing Hal did not believe he deserved, yet one she gave regardless. Love was the path to forgiveness, and Alex had forgiven him. In time, she hoped Hal would forgive himself.

So they would tumble into sleep, each counting off one more of their endless days, knowing that it could end at any moment. For what else could there be? What was left but this present _now_? The choice of today setting the course for the morrow.

What was left, but love?

* * *

_Finis_.


End file.
